of  DESTINY 

J— /J— /v_/  1  11  i  A 


THOMAS  GOLD  FROST 


THE   MAN   OF   DESTINY 


The  Man  of  Destiny 


BY 

THOMAS   GOLD   FROST 


WITH    IT.LUSTHAtTIONS    BY 

S.   NEMTZOFF 


NEW  YORK 
THE  GRAMERCY  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909 

BY 

THOMAS  GOLD  FROST 


THE    MANHATTAN    PRESS 
NEW    YORK 


DEDICATED  TO  MY  WIFE 
MARY  KENNEDY  FROST 


2135447 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

PREFACE 1 

I    A  KENTUCKY  BACKGROUND 3 

II    SOWING  THE  SEED 12 

III  AN  UNEXPECTED  CANDIDATE  FOR  MILI- 

TARY HONORS , 20 

IV  THE  BURTON  HOME 28 

V    CADET  LIFE 33 

VI    A  NIGHT  AT  "BENNY  HAVEN'S" 42 

VII    THE  FURLOUGH 51 

VIII    THE  TRIP  TO  SQUIRREL  ISLAND 59 

IX    NEARING  THE  GOAL 65 

X    A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD 75 

XI    THE  COMMENCEMENT  BALL 88 

XII    THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 95 

XIII  AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S 100 

XIV  GETTING  EEADY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN 116 

XV    THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOLDIER 126 

XVI     CUPID  AND  MARS 133 

XVII    LIFE  AT  FORT  HUMBOLDT 143 

XVIII    "EVERY  MAN  HAS  His  PRICE" 151 

XIX    THE  RESIGNATION 159 

XX    THE  AFTERMATH , 163 

XXI    IN  THE  SHADOWS 168 

XXII  THE  MAN  WHO  FAILED.  .                        ,176 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII  ESTRANGEMENT 182 

XXIV  THE  PASSING  OF  CASS 185 

XXV    BRETT'S  RETURN 190 

XXVI    THE  BETROTHAL 196 

XXVII    MARRIAGE  BELLS 201 

XXVIII    THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM. 205 

XXIX    THE  CALL  TO  ARMS 212 

XXX  COLONEL  BURTON  MOVES  AGAINST  THE 

ENEMY 218 

XXXI    How  BURTON  FOUND  HIMSELF 225 

XXXII    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 233 

XXXIII  THE  BLOOD  ATONEMENT 264 

XXXIV  THE  SAVING  OF  A  NATION 271 

XXXV    THIS  GRAND  REVIEW 278 

XXXVI    "AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  is  LOVE" 286 

KXXVII  FINIS  .                                                     .  308 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

(Frontispiece) 

PAGE 

THE  BIDING  CONTEST  AT  WEST  POINT 8Q. 

SCENE  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S  BRIDGE 104 

THE  APPEAL  TO  C^SAR.  .  , 292 


PREFACE 

THIS  is  primarily  a  work  of  fiction  and  only 
partakes  incidentally  of  the  character  of  an 
historical  romance.  The  love  theme  herein 
presented  is  purely  a  creature  of  the  author's  imagina- 
tion, set  in  a  background  of  historic  facts. 

No  one,  of  course,  will  fail  to  recognize  in  the  great 
military  leader  of  the  Civil  War  the  original  of  the 
character  of  Burton  as  found  within  these  pages.  In 
speaking  of  this  great  character — in  a  paraphrase  of 
what  was  observed  as  to  Disraeli — it  may  be  asserted 
that  his  life  was  a  romance,  his  romance  was  history 
and  his  whole  career  is  a  fiction  founded  on  fact. 

In  proof  of  the  truth  of  this  statement,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  observe  that  without  the  events  of  this 
great  leader's  life  to  lend  verity  to  the  story,  many  of 
the  chapters  of  "The  Man  of  Destiny"  would  give  color 
to  the  suspicion  that  the  writer's  imaginative  faculties 
had  run  away  with  his  judgment.  In  one  sense,  this 
work  is  a  tribute  to  the  most  marvelous  and  romantic 
career  that  was  ever  lived  by  an  American  citizen.  In 
shil]  another  sense,  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  serious  at- 
tempt to  interpret  and  illumine  a  great  life,  in  the  hope 
that  the  youth  of  this  country,  as  well  as  those  who 
count  their  own  lives  as  failures,  may  draw  hope  and 

1 


2  PREFACE 

aspiration  from  its  pages.  In  all  their  broad  and  essen- 
tial features,  the  events  herein  portrayed  are  taken  lit- 
erally out  of  the  life  of  one  of  our  fellow  countrymen. 
In  the  non-essentials,  particularly  in  matters  of  senti- 
ment, the  writer  has  intentionally  and  from  motives 
which,  it  is  hoped,  all  will  understand,  broken  entirely 
away  from  the  historical  basis  and  drawn  on  the  TC- 
sources  of  the  imagination. 

Thus  while  the  romantic  incidents  found  within  these 
pages  are  purely  creations  of  fancy,  still  all  will  admit 
that  they  might  be  easily  duplicated  in  the  life-story  of 
many  a  person  living  to-day. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  events  herein  portrayed 
which  have  their  foundation  in  historical  fact  which  are 
likely  to  tax  the  credulity  of  the  reader.  In  brief,  it  all 
serves  to  show  the  verity  of  the  trite  saying,  that  "truth 
is  stranger  than  fiction." 

If  all  these  things  are  borne  in  mind,  much  well-inten- 
tioned criticism  may  be  thereby  rendered  unnecessary. 

THE  AUTHOB. 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 


CHAPTER  I 

.     A  KENTUCKY  BACKGROUND 

ON  the  Kentucky  shore  of  the  Ohio,  some  five  miles 
from  the  picturesque  village  of  Maysville,  there  juts  out 
in  bold  relief  from  the  high  ridge  behind,  a  wooded  pro- 
montory known  since  pioneer  days  as  "Indian  Rock." 
Whatever  the  origin  of  the  name — whether  legendary  or 
otherwise — it  has  been  lost  in  the  passing  of  the  years. 
With  its  inviting  carpet  of  grass  and  moss,  accom- 
panied by  an  unrivaled  view  of  the  beautiful  valley  of 
the  Ohio  below,  it  has  long  been  the  Mecca  for  many  a 
holiday  pilgrimage  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants  for 
miles  around. 

On  a  hazy  afternoon  in  November,  1838,  two  youth- 
ful visitors  might  have  been  observed  making  their  way 
on  horseback  along  the  winding  trail  that  leads  from 
the  dusky  pike  below  to  the  summit  of  the  rock  above. 
The  one  was  a  dark-haired,  fair-faced  girl,  just  budding 
into  womanhood.  The  other,  a  sandy-maned,  freckled 
lad  of  seventeen  years  or  thereabouts.  The  summit 

3 


4  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

once  attained  they  dismounted — allowing  their  horses  to 
browse  on  the  long  grass  that  grew  everywhere  abun- 
dantly and  then  proceeded  to  drink  in  the  scene  that 
lay  stretched  out  before  their  eyes.  They  were  alone, 
free  to  enjoy  in  careless  boy  and  girl  fashion  one  of  the 
fairest  of  Nature's  pictures.  The  sun  was  slowly  sink- 
ing in  a  bank  of  clouds  in  the  west  and  great  rays  of 
slanting  light  fell  upon  the  branches  of  the  tall  trees, 
bringing  them  out  in  bold  relief,  while  the  soft  breezes 
wafted  through  their  autumn-tinted  leaves. 

They  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  gazing  in  mute  ad- 
miration up  and  down  the  valley,  which,  with  the  great 
river  in  its  bosom,  stretched  away  until  it  lost  itself  in 
the  line  of  the  horizon.  In  the  lad's  face  an  apparent 
stolidity  had  vanished,  to  make  way  for  a  look  of  boyish 
content,  occasioned  perhaps  by  some  feeling  of  happi- 
ness, engendered  in  its  turn  by  his  unaccustomed  voca- 
tion of  cavalier  to  incipient  womanhood.  In  the  girl's, 
little  else  was  to  be  observed,  save  enjoyment  of  the 
rarely  beautiful  scene  which  she  was  enjoying  to  the 
full. 

To  a  rather  unusual  chain  of  circumstances  was  due 
their  companionship  on  this  warm  autumn  afternoon. 
The  preceding  summer  had  found  the  lad,  Samuel  Bur- 
ton by  name,  living  on  a  small  Ohio  farm  with  his 
parents,  who  were  hard-working  frontier  people  in 
very  humble  circumstances.  It  was  at  this  time  that  an 
invitation  had  come  from  Mrs.  Burton's  brother — a 
well-to-do  stock  trader  by  the  name  of  Thomas  Carter 
— offering  to  take  his  nephew  into  his  own  home  at 
Maysville,  while  in  attendance  at  the  "Academy"  loca- 


A  KENTUCKY  BACKGROUND  5 

ted  on  the  outskirts  of  that  attractive  Kentucky  vil- 
lage. This  offer  had  been  gladly  accepted,  and  for  two 
months  past  "Sam,"  as  the  lad  was  called,  had  been  a 
member  of  Mr.  Carter's  household.  This  last  consisted 
of  himself,  his  wife  and  only  child — Julia — a  girl  about 
Sam's  own  age. 

On  the  latter's  arrival  at  the  Carter  home  he  found 
there  a  visitor — a  young  girl,  Sallie  Custis  by  name — 
who  was  his  companion  on  the  afternoon  on  which  this 
story  opens.  Only  a  few  months  before  she  herself  had 
left  Vaucluse,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Custis  family, 
located  on  the  west  shore  of  the  Chesapeake  in  Virginia, 
to  accompany  her  father  on  a  visit  to  a  maternal 
uncle  who  for  many  years  had  made  his  home  at  Mays- 
ville.  It  was  in  this  wise  that  she  had  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Burton's  cousin,  Julia  Carter.  The 
two  girls  had  become  such  fast  friends  that  when  Judge 
Custis — Sallie's  father — had  announced  his  intention  of 
returning  home  early  in  the  fall,  he  had  given  a  reluc- 
tant consent  to  his  daughter's  remaining  a  few  months 
longer  at  Maysville  as  a  visitor  at  the  Carter  home.  His 
consent,  however,  had  been  obtained  only  upon  the 
promise  that  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Flandreau,  should 
accompany  his  daughter  on  her  homeward  journey, 
which  it  was  agreed  should  occur  prior  to  the  Christmas 
holidays. 

Without  recognizing  it,  "Sallie"  Custis  and  "Sam" 
Burton  were  products  of  two  distinct  forms  of  civiliza- 
tion. She  belonged  to  the  cavaliers  who  boasted  no 
prouder  name  than  that  of  the  Virginia  Custises.  He 
was  of  the  Puritan  stock,  and  was,  as  it  were,  a  later 


6  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

product  of  that  restless  spirit  of  adventure  which  had 
led  his  New  England  ancestors  to  leave  the  bleak  shores 
of  the  North  Atlantic,  in  order  to  reach  the  coveted 
promised  land  beyond.  They  were  rude  road-builders 
for  the  more  refined  but  less  rugged  civilization  that 
was  to  follow. 

But  the  two  young  people  who  were  enjoying  the 
seductive  pleasures  of  Indian  Rock  on  this  November 
afternoon,  gave  little  thought  to  their  progenitors  of 
an  age  long  since  past  and  gone.  They  were  too  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  allurements  of  the  present  to  care  much 
for  the  somber  past.  This  does  not  mean  that  either 
one  lacked  consciousness  of  the  difference — personal  or 
otherwise — that  existed  in  that  puzzling  social  equation 
in  which  they  were  the  known  factors,  or  that  they  were 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  one  of  them  at  least  had  a 
highly  respectable — if  proportionately  stupid — assort- 
ment of  ancestors.  Girl  though  she  was,  Sallie  Custis 
saw  clearly  the  limitations — both  subjective  and  ob- 
jective— which  pertained  to  the  personality  of  a  back- 
woods farmer's  boy  of  the  Western  frontier.  She  knew 
full  well  that  with  his  shambling  figure,  homespun 
clothes,  and  stolid  exterior,  he  would  cut  a  sorry  figure 
in  comparison  with  the  debonair  "Hot-Spurs"  of  her 
own  neighborhood  at  home.  She  knew,  too,  that  he  came 
perilously  close  to  belonging  to  that  despised  class  who 
were  termed  almost  universally  by  the  slaves  of  the 
South,  "poor  white  trash."  He  was  backward  in  his 
studies,  painfully  shy  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  and, 
to  all  appearances,  was  devoid  of  ambition.  What  then 
had  brought  about  this  intimacy  between  the  strangely 


A  KENTUCKY  BACKGROUND  7 

assorted  pair?  A  casual  observer  might  have  said  that 
it  was  due  solely  to  the  far  greater  freedom  of  manners 
that  existed  in  the  Kentucky  of  that  early  day  as  con- 
trasted with  those  of  Virginia,  of  a  contemporaneous 
period.  For  in  the  former,  the  youth  of  both  sexes 
mingled  together  unchaperoned,  with  a  freedom  from 
conventional  restraints  which  would  have  caused  the 
first  families  of  the  older  commonwealth  to  stand 
aghast.  But  it  was  not  the  absence  of  these  purely 
conventional  barriers  which  had  brought  about  the  de- 
lightful camaraderie  that  existed  between  the  daughter 
of  a  proud  Virginia  family  and  the  son  of  an  humble 
Ohio  farmer. 

It  had  all  had  its  beginning  on  her  part  in  the  dis- 
covery of  what  Mr.  Carter  laughingly  termed  Sam's 
only  accomplishment.  Sallie  Custis — like  most  Virginia 
girls  of  that  period — was  exceedingly  fond  not  only  of 
horses,  but  of  equestrian  exercise  as  well.  Brought  up  in 
a  community  where  every  one  rode  from  earliest  child- 
hood, there  was  no  accomplishment  which  attracted  more 
attention  from  her  than  the  possession  of  skill  in  the 
handling  of  horses.  The  very  first  day  that  she  saw 
Burton  mount  and  ride  one  of  Mr.  Carter's  most 
fractious  Kentucky  thoroughbreds,  she  recognized  in 
him  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the  most  superb  horsemen  she 
had  ever  seen.  Once  in  the  saddle  the  awkward, 
ungainly  figure  was  transformed  as  it  were  into  one  of 
grace  and  perfect  poise.  She  rated  him  as  one  of  the 
few  "past  masters"  of  the  equestrian  art  that  she  had 
ever  known.  From  that  day  he  had  found  a  friend  in 
Sallie  Custis.  They  soon  formed  the-  habit  of  riding 


8  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

out  together  every  pleasant  afternoon  as  soon  as 
Burton  had  finished  his  day's  studies  at  the  academy. 
Thus  it  was  that  the  young  Virginian  girl  had  come  in 
personal  contact  with  this  forlorn  bit  of  human  drift- 
wood, which  had  been  buffeted  about  on  the  storms  of 
frontier  life,  until  it  had  now,  for  the  first  time,  crossed 
her  pathway.  Her  meeting  with  him  had  been  but  an 
incident  in  her  life.  In  his  it  was  an  event,  and  that 
too,  one  of  great  moment.  On  her  broader  horizon  the 
backward  and  uncouth  country  lad  from  an  Ohio  farm 
presented  anything  but  a  promising  figure.  Every- 
thing about  him — face,  figure,  manners  and  homespun 
clothes — in  short,  all  things  purely  external  showed 
but  too  brazenly  the  difference  between  his  lot  and  hers. 
It  was  perhaps  not  unnatural  that  he  should  recognize 
this  fact  more  quickly  than  she.  For  as  yet  her  interest 
in  him  was  of  that  aggravatingly  impersonal  nature 
which  one  bestows  upon  things  inanimate,  which  please 
but  do  not  quicken  the  emotions.  But  to  him  it  sufficed 
that  kind  fortune  permitted  him  to  associate  daily  on 
terms  of  friendly  equality  with  one  who  seemed  like  a 
visitor  from  another  world.  Occasions  like  the  present 
were  red-letter  days  in  his  existence,  to  be  lived  over 
again  and  again,  even  to  the  minutest  detail,  long  after 
the  event  itself  had  faded  into  a  dim  and  distant  past. 
Returning  now  to  the  events  of  the  afternoon,  the 
pair  had  been  standing  for  some  time  chatting  in  a 
somewhat  desultory  fashion,  when  the  girl  inquired  in 
that  imperious  fashion  which  was  almost  second  nature 
with  her,  "Sam,  tell  me  something  of  your  home  and 


A  KENTUCKY  BACKGROUND  9 

family.  It  is  not  fair  that  I  should  be  the  only  one  to- 
bestow  confidences." 

The  sallow  face  of  her  companion  flushed  with  a 
commingling  of  pleasure  and  embarrassment  at  words 
which  showed  a  personal  interest  in  him  that  so  far 
had  been  largely  confined  to  admiration  of  his  horse- 
manship. Indeed,  up  to  this  time  it  had  been  absolutely 
impersonal. 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell,  Miss  Sallie,"  he  said.  "I 
have  lived  all  my  life  on  the  Ohio  side  of  the  river,  not 
over  fifty  miles  from  where  we  are  now  sitting.  We  live 
comfortably,  neither  better  nor  worse  than  our  neigh- 
bors. My  father  is  a  farmer  who  took  up  a  quarter  sec- 
tion of  land  in  Ohio  just  before  I  was  born.  We — that  is, 
father,  mother  and  I — live  in  a  three-room  log  cabin. 
Father  and  I  do  all  the  work  about  the  place,  for  we 
keep  no  help  at  all.  I  cannot  remember  the  time  when 
I  have  not  had  to  do  a  man's  work.  My  father  is  just 
and  fair,  and  no  one  could  have  a  better  mother  than 
I.  Father  has  always  been  able  to  keep  two  horses  on 
the  farm,  and  when  I  was  very  small  he  gave  me  a  colt 
which  I  broke  and  rode.  Until  Uncle  Tom  Carter 
invited  me  to  come  to  Maysville  and  attend  the  academy 
here,  I  had  only  about  four  months'  schooling  each 
year,  from  the  time  I  was  eight  years  old.  It  meant 
more  of  a  sacrifice  than  you  can  imagine  for  my  parents 
to  spare  me  for  a  whole  year  from  the  work  on  the 
farm.  But  they  felt  that  such  an  opportunity  would 
never  come  again,  and  that  I  must  avail  myself  of  it. 
So  I  came  to  Maysville  last  September  as  you  know, 
and  I  shall  remain  here  until  next  June.  That  is  about 


10  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

all  that  there  is  to  it.  After  this  is  over  I  suppose  it 
means  that  I  shall  go  back  to  the  farm — to  stay." 

These  last  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone  of  sadness 
which  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  the  quick-witted  girl 
at  his  side,  but  she  made  no  comment  on  them  at  that 
time.  Her  only  reply  was  this:  "I  am  only  a  young 
girl,  'Sam,'  and  do  not  know  much  of  what  is  going 
on  outside  my  own  home.  But  I  am  glad  you  told  me 
what  you  have  'Sam,'  and  before  I  go  I  want  to  talk 
more  with  you  about  yourself." 

There  was  little  more  conversation  of  a  personal  na- 
ture passed  between  these  two  widely  divergent  types 
respectively  of  Eastern  culture  and  refinement  and 
Western  self-education  and  sturdy  self-respect,  before 
their  homeward  journey  was  commenced.  But  brief 
as  had  been  the  opportunity,  yet  it  had  seen  the  awaken- 
ing in  the  sensitive  soul  of  a  warm-hearted  Southern 
girl,  of  a  real  human  interest  in  another  life — 
far  removed  from  that  of  her  own  chosen  circle.  True 
it  was  this  interest  focused  on  a  life  far  more  humble 
than  her  own,  and  yet  it  was  deep,  genuine  and  sincere. 
It  was  not  founded  on  pity.  Doubtless  it  was  generated 
in  part  by  sympathetic  understanding  of  its  narrowness 
and  hopelessness,  and  yet  it  arose  largely  through  the 
intuitive  powers  of  a  girl  standing  close  to  the 
threshold  of  womanhood.  Through  this  mysterious 
gift — bestowed  in  so  large  degree  upon  the  weaker  sex 
— she  saw  in  him  even  at  the  dawn  of  what  was  destined 
to  be  an  acquaintance  of  years — a  power  and  a  strength 
as  yet  undreamed  of  by  the  youth  himself.  Whatever 
the  motive — be  it  the  passing  fancy  of  a  young  girl's 


A  IvEN TUCKY  BACKGROUND  1 1 

sentimental  nature  or  the  outward  expression  of  a 
deeply  sympathetic  heart — there  was  formed  in  her 
mind  that  fair  November  afternoon,  a  fixed  purpose  to 
be  of  service  to  this  unpromising  product  of  an  Ohio 
farm.  And  the  opportunity — be  it  said — was  not  far 
off. 


CHAPTER  II 

SOWING    THE   SEED 

IT  was  the  eve  of  Sallie  Custis's  departure  from 
Maysville  for  her  Virginia  home.  In  her  honor  a  party 
had  been  given  by  her  friend,  Julia  Carter,  to  which 
had  been  bidden  a  goodly  portion  of  the  young  people 
of  the  village.  The  Carter  mansion  was  illumined  from 
top  to  bottom  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  From  within 
came  sounds  which  indicated  that  dancing  was  to  be 
the  form  of  entertainment  for  the  youthful  guests  there 
assembled.  The  father  of  the  hostess  of  the  occasion 
was  in  his  element.  Tom  Carter's  original  and  whole- 
hearted greetings  to  each  guest,  as  well  as  his  ability 
to  make  all  feel  perfectly  at  home,  contributed  in  no 
small  measure  to  the  success  of  the  occasion.  Long 
before  the  guests  had  arrived,  he  had  obtained  unlimited 
amusement  in  privately  coaching  his  nephew  as  to  the 
social  amenities  that  might  be  expected  of  him  in  such 
a  select  gathering. 

"You  must  remember,  Sam,"  he  observed,  with  all 
due  seriousness,  "that  in  your  dual  character  as  nearest 
male  relative  and  star-boarder  in  my  establishment,  you 
will  be  expected  to  do  the  honors  of  the  occasion.  Every 
one  will  be  expecting  you  to  be  bubbling  over  with 

12 


SOWING  THE  SEED  13 

joviality,  wit  and  hospitality.  You  will,  of  course,  have 
a  stock  of  good  stories  on  hand  of  the  proper 
geometrical  proportions  for  the  boys,  and  well-timed 
compliments  for  all  the  girls.  No  matter  what  happens, 
remember  to  keep  things  moving.  If  all  else  fails,  you 
might  stir  things  up  a  little  by  yelling  'fire'  a  few  times, 
or  if  you  prefer,  dance  a  Highland  fling  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  our  guests." 

Burton  bore  all  his  uncle's  bantering  good-naturedly 
but  in  his  heart  he  dreaded  the  evening  more  than  one 
could  have  imagined.  Both  from  lack  of  experience 
in  such  functions,  and  from  innate  shyness,  he  shrank 
from  meeting  so  many  strangers.  At  times  he  seriously 
contemplated  a  strategic  flank  movement  to  the  neigh- 
boring woods,  but  fear  of  ridicule  caused  him  to  accept 
the  inevitable.  Without  his  recognizing  it  perhaps,  he 
had  a  touch  of  fatalism  in  his  make-up,  and  with  respect 
to  this  event — as  to  many  others  of  far  more  moment 
in  after  life — he  believed  that  what  was  to  be,  must 
be.  So  it  was,  with  much  the  same  feeling  that  a  felon 
regards  the  day  of  his  execution,  that  Burton  found 
himself  one  evening  in  November  face  to  face  with  the 
guests  at  Sallie  Custis's  farewell  party. 

Whether  it  was  the  sudden  plunge  into  what  seemed 
like  fairyland  to  him,  or  whether  it  was  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  wearing  for  the  first  time  a  most 
wonderful  tailor-made  suit  presented  to  him  by  his 
uncle,  he  felt  far  from  at  home  amid  such  unnatural 
surroundings.  His  distress  and  embarrassment  were  so 
marked  as  to  evoke  sympathy  from  his  uncle,  who  de- 
clared that  it  seemed  a  pity  that  social  usages  would 


14  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

not  permit  of  his  nephew's  entertaining  the  guests  on 
horseback,  for  then  he  would  be  willing  to  vouch  for 
his  nephew's  becoming  a  society  star  of  the  first 
magnitude." 

Burton  had  not  seen  Sallie  Custis  alone  since  their 
late  visit  to  Indian  Rock.  She  had  been  too  busy  get- 
ting ready  for  her  departure  to  indulge  in  any  more 
horseback  excursions,  and  these  had  been  omitted  of 
late.  Nevertheless  he  had  cherished  the  hope  that  the 
occasion  of  the  party  would  not  pass  without  an  oppor- 
tunity for  at  least  a  few  moments  private  conversation 
with  her.  But  as  the  evening  progressed,  it  seemed  as 
though  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  She  had 
scarcely  finished  dressing  before  the  guests  arrived,  and 
this  of  course  gave  her  little  opportunity  for  conversa- 
tion with  the  members  of  the  household. 

Never  so  long  as  he  lived  would  Burton  forget  the 
picture  she  presented  that  evening  when  she  descended 
the  stairway  in  her  evening  costume.  She  seemed  to 
him  so  different  in  many  ways  from  the  girl  who  had 
been  his  companion  of  late  on  so  many  rides.  There 
was  a  dignity,  a  sense  of  that  complete  self-possession 
and  power  about  her — that  springs  only  from  experi- 
ence and  breeding — which  Burton  had  never  observed 
before.  Youthful  as  she  was,  she  gave  unmistakable 
signs  that  night  of  the  possession  of  those  social  quali- 
ties which  were  to  make  her,  in  after  life,  one  of  the 
favorite  toasts  among  the  cavaliers  of  the  "Old 
Dominion."  No  fairer  vision  of  girlish  beauty  had 
ever  been  seen  in  that  community  than  was  presented  by 
the  young  Virginia  girl  on  the  eve  of  her  departure 


SOWING  THE  SEED  15 

from  Kentucky  soil.  She  indeed  formed  a  picture 
which  was  pleasant  to  look  upon,  and  yet,  because  of  it, 
she  seemed  to  Burton  further  from  him  to-night  than 
she  had  ever  been  before.  Once  more  there  swept  over 
him  the  conviction  that  she  belonged  to  a  world  separate 
and  apart  from  that  which  claimed  him.  He  had  never 
before  attended  a  function  of  this  kind,  and  he  felt  ill 
at  ease  in  consequence.  This  feeling,  instead  of  de- 
creasing as  the  evening  passed,  became  more  and  more 
marked  as  there  came  to  him  a  realization  of  how  small 
a  part  was  his  in  the  festivities  going  on  about  him. 
Once  or  twice  during  the  evening,  Mr.  Carter,  in  his 
hearty  way,  chided  him  for  not  taking  part  in  the 
dancing,  but  hearing  Burton's  assertion  that  he  had 
never  mastered  the  art,  he  soon  left  him  to  his  own, 
resources. 

This  dance  was  but  one  of  the  many  new  phases 
of  life  which  he  had  met  in  Maysville  from  the  day  of 
his  first  arrival  there.  Like  so  many  of  the  other  things 
he  came  in  contact  with  here,  it  seemed  as  if  he  were 
not  intended  to  participate  in  it.  To  his  sensitive  na- 
ture there  came  this  unspoken  question :  "Would  it  not 
be  better  for  you,  if  you  were  back  on  the  plowed 
fields  and  green  meadows  of  your  Ohio  home,  instead  of 
intruding  here  into  a  life  so  different  from  your  own?" 
True,  some  of  those  present  were  schoolmates  of  his  at 
the  academy  and  yet  they  had  never  made  him  truly  one 
of  their  own.  Even  to-night  in  his  uncle's  house  they 
treated  him  with  but  scant  respect.  But  he  cared  little 
for  them  or  theirs.  For  in  the  midst  of  it  all  would 
come  to  him  the  thought  that  all  this  would  probably  be 


16  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

over  soon,  and  the  time  would  come  when  he  must  go 
back  to  his  own  world,  which  was  so  different  from  the 
one  which  had  opened  in  kaleidoscope  fashion  before 
his  astonished  gaze  this  night.  And  then  what  would  it 
all  matter? 

During  the  course  of  the  evening  and  as  if  to  reach 
a  place  more  in  keeping  with  his  mood,  he  had  stepped 
from  the  brilliantly  lighted  parlor  within,  into  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  balcony  without.  From  thence  after 
gazing  back  momentarily  through  the  open  windows 
upon  the  dancers  within,  he  turned  his  back  upon  them 
all  and  looked  up  at  the  brightly  shining  stars  above. 
From  his  earliest  childhood  they  had  always  looked  so 
benignant  and  kindly  and  to-night  they  seemed  like  old 
and  tried  friends.  Somehow — explain  it  he  could  not — 
there  had  come  over  him  a  feeling  of  unutterable  lone- 
liness, wholly  out  of  keeping  with  the  scene  which  was 
taking  place  only  a  few  feet  from  where  he  stood. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  commenced  to  see  life  in 
a  newer  and  broader  light  than  had  ever  been  vouch- 
safed to  him  before.  Possibly  it  had  already  com- 
menced to  dawn  dimly  on  his  understanding  that  he 
must  soon  face  one  of  those  crises  which  make  or  mar 
the  destiny  of  man.  In  the  darkness  a  voice  from 
out  of  the  illimitable  depth  of  the  firmament  above, 
seemed  to  whisper  to  him  the  words — 'hope,  do  not 
despair,  the  road  to  the  mountain  tops  beyond  is  open 
to  all.  Success  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  but  rather 
to  the  sure.'  Somehow  the  thought  even  if  it  were  not 
an  inspiration  from  above,  brought  comfort  to  a  soul 
that  was  hungry  and  athirst.  For  it  furnished  it  with 


SOWING  THE  SEED  17 

the  meat  of  a  definite  purpose  that  was  to  be  born 
within  him  that  night  and  it  gave  to  it  the  invigorating 
drink  of  ambition.  Satisfied  with  this  communion  with 
his  silent  friends  of  the  night,  he  turned  and  retraced 
his  steps,  until  he  stood  looking  once  more  from  the 
open  window  upon  the  gay  scene  within.  Without 
scarcely  realizing  it  himself,  his  eyes  seldom  left  for 
a  moment  the  girlish  figure  of  Sallie  Custis  as  she 
moved  back  and  forth  in  the  mazes  of  the  dance.  There 
was  a  height  of  color  in  her  cheeks  and  her  girlish 
beauty  never  appeared  to  more  advantage  than  it  did 
just  then.  She  was  full  of  gaiety  and  happiness,  and 
had  entered  fully  into  the  joyous  spirit  of  the  occasion. 
Soon  the  music  ceased,  and  then  it  was  that  she  and  her 
partner  wandered  out  upon  the  balcony.  As  she  did  so 
she  spied  Burton  and  stopped  to  speak  to  him. 

It  was  indeed  a  most  attractive  bit  of  femininity  that 
was  at  that  moment  peering  up  into  his  face  from  a 
fleecy  white  shawl,  which  had  been  thrown  carelessly 
over  her  hair  of  silken  brown.  Small  of  stature,  a  per- 
fect figure,  an  easy  carriage,  dark  eyebrows,  aquiline 
nose,  a  cupid's  bow  mouth  with  lips  of,  bright  coral  hue, 
all  these  combined  to  give  the  promise  of  extraordinary 
beauty  of  person. 

"Sam,"  she  said,  "you  have  not  asked  me  to  dance 
to-night,  and  this  too,  in  your  uncle's  house." 

As  she  uttered  these  words  she  gave  a  pleasant  pout 
as  her  eyes  rested  saucily  upon  him,  and  then  added, 
"I  have  been  saving  a  dance  for  you,  Sam,  all  the 
evening." 

"But  I  don't  dance,  Miss  Sallie." 


18 

"Well,  as  there's  hardly  time  for  me  to  teach  you 
to-night,  suppose  you  sit  out  a  dance  with  me,  if  you 
don't  mind,"  was  her  frank  reply  to  his  disclaimer  of 
saltatory  accomplishments. 

The  grateful  look  in  Burton's  eyes  must  have  more 
than  repaid  her  for  her  kindness  in  doing  for  him  what 
she  had  done  for  no  other  there  present  that  evening. 
A  few  moments  later  found  them  walking  up  and  down 
the  long  veranda  of  the  house.  The  night  was  warm 
for  the  late  fall  even  in  Kentucky  and  a  brilliant  moon 
made  this  secluded  spot  a  favorite  resort  for  couples 
between  the  dances. 

"Sam,"  she  said,  "you  know  I  am  going  back  home 
to-morrow.  This  is  probably  the  last  chance  I  shall 
have  to  talk  with  you  for  a  long  time  to  come.  It  may 
be  that  we  shall  never  see  each  other  again.  But  often 
since  our  ride  to  Indian  Rock,  I  have  been  thinking 
about  you  and  wondering  if  there  was  not  some  way 
that  would  enable  you  to  get  away  from  your  lonely 
life  on  the  farm  and  find  an  opportunity  to  do  some- 
thing that  is  more  worthy  of  your  abilities,  something 
worth  while." 

Without  waiting  for  his  comment,  which  in  all  likeli- 
hood would  not  have  come  at  all,  she  proceeded : 

"You  have  heard  me  speak  of  our  neighbors  at  home, 
have  you  not — the  Brett  family — and  of  their  son 
Carl  Brett,  who  is  about  your  age?"  Burton  nodded 
a  somewhat  grim  assent.  He  already  knew  enough 
about  Carl  Brett  to  realize  that  he  was  a  sort  of 
prodigy  in  the  eyes  of  Sallie  Custis.  It  may  be  that  he 
recognized  even  now,  events  might  so  shape  themselves 


SOWING  THE  SEED  19 

that  in  this  same  Carl  Brett,  he  might  some  day  find  a 
dangerous  rival  on  more  than  one  field  of  combat. 

"Well,  I  have  an  idea.  Father  wrote  me  the  other 
day  that  Carl  is  to  have  an  appointment  to  West  Point 
next  June,  and  I  was  wondering  why  you  could  not  get 
such  an  appointment  yourself  as  well  as  he." 

The  idea  was  so  bold  in  its  conception,  that  for  the 
moment  it  startled  her  companion.  The  life  of  a  soldier 
had  never  been  one  of  his  dreams  and  so  far  as  he 
knew,  he  had  no  inclination  nor  special  bent  for  a 
military  career.  While  he  came  of  good  fighting  stock 
of  the  Revolutionary  brand,  his  own  inclinations  had 
at  all  times  been  most  peaceful  and  domestic.  But  his 
mood  just  at  the  time  was  a  most  receptive  one,  and  it 
needed  only  a  suggestion  from  the  girl  at  his  side  to 
turn  his  thoughts  to  any  career  that  might  promise 
relief  from  the  deadly  commonplace  of  the  present.  So 
he  braced  himself  for  the  occasion,  and  promptly 
agreed  that  he  would  consider  the  matter,  although  he 
doubted  whether  he  could  secure  the  necessary  influence 
to  get  the  appointment  even  should  he  decide  that  he 
would  try  for  it.  But  the  practical  side  of  the  question 
presented  no  difficulties  to  the  mind  of  Sallie  Custis. 
All  that  she  felt  was  the  great  prospect  for  future 
accomplishment  that  might  be  opened  to  him.  Without 
knowing  it,  she  was  to  be  the  instrument  through  which 
a  hitherto  aimless  life  should  not  only  find  itself,  but 
thereby  save  a  nation. 


CHAPTER  III 

AN   UNEXPECTED    CANDIDATE   FOR   MILITARY   HONORS 

"UNCLE  TOM,  would  you  be  willing  to  help  me  get 
an  appointment  to  West  Point?" 

In  this  wise  was  Mr.  Thomas  Carter  accosted  by  his 
nephew  one  November  afternoon  shortly  after  the  de- 
parture of  Sallie  Custis  for  her  Virginia  home.  The 
seed  that  she  had  so  skilfully  sown  in  the  mind  of 
"Sam"  Burton,  now,  for  the  first  time,  gave  promise  of 
bringing  forth  fruit.  The  question  referred  to  was 
propounded  to  Mr.  Carter  with  much  visible  embarrass- 
ment just  as  the  latter  was  dismounting  from  his  horse 
after  a  long  ride  through  the  country.  "Tom"  Carter 
was  a  man  not  easily  thrown  off  his  guard,  but  for 
once  he  was  fairly  nonplussed.  He  had  invited  his 
nephew  to  come  and  live  with  him  while  attending  the 
academy,  not  because  he  saw  in  him  any  evidence  of  a 
special  promise,  but  purely  out  of  regard  for  his  sister, 
who  had  asked  him  to  do  something  for  her  boy.  As  he 
became  better  acquainted  with  the  lad  he  had  become 
strongly  attached  to  him.  However,  at  no  time  had 
he  detected  in  him  signs  which  betokened  the  possession 
of  a  tithe  of  that  ambition,  which  had  made  his  own  life 
one  of  uninterrupted  success  from  a  circumscribed  be- 
ginning to  one  of  comparative  ease  and  affluence. 

20 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CANDIDATE  21 

"Tom"  Carter  was  in  the  truest  sense  a  self-made 
man  and  at  heart  took  an  honest  pride  in  this  fact.  He 
had,  too,  it  must  be  admitted,  more  than  the  average 
pride  of  race,  and  having  no  son  of  his  own  he  had 
secretly  cherished  the  hope  that  out  of  this  unpromising 
material,  as  represented  by  his  next  male  relative,  there 
might  be  developed  a  man  of  parts.  But  up  to  the 
present  moment,  aside  from  the  possession  of  most 
extraordinary  equestrian  skill,  Sam  Burton  evidenced 
no  indication  of  having  any  qualities  out  of  the 
ordinary.  Not  but  what  he  was  faithful,  appreciative 
and  manly,  but  he  lacked  so  many  of  the  personal 
graces  as  to  render  the  sterner  qualities  less  noticeable. 
It  therefore  passed  almost  the  bounds  of  credulity  on 
Mr.  Carter's  part,  to  believe  that  he  really  understood 
his  nephew's  words  aright.  To  reassure  himself  he 
queried : 

"What  is  that  you  say,  Sam?" 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  help  me  get  an  appointment 
to  West  Point,  uncle?" 

Before  replying,  Mr.  Carter  took  occasion  to  make 
a  prolonged  survey  of  the  heavens  above  and  the  earth 
beneath  as  if  in  search  of  strength  from  some  unseen 
source  with  which  to  sustain  the  ordeal.  In  order  to 
make  sure  that  it  was  something  more  than  a  mere 
boyish  whim,  he  undertook  a  little  cross-examination 
as  preliminary  to  a  direct  answer  to  his  nephew's 
request. 

"Sam,  if  the  angel  Gabriel  had  asked  me  to  use  my 
influence  to  get  him  a  position  where  he  could  get  steady 
work  as  a  Kentucky  bandmaster,  I  would  not  have  been 


22  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

more  surprised  than  I  am  to  receive  such  a  request  from 
you.  But  before  I  make  you  any  promises  I  want  to 
satisfy  my  curiosity  on  some  points.  Who  has  been 
suggesting  to  you  that  you  possess  an  innate  genius 
for  war?" 

"No  one,  uncle,  though  Sallie  Custis  did  suggest  to 
me  that  I  try  and  get  an  appointment  to  the  Academy." 

"Can't  that  girl  get  rid  of  you  in  any  easier  way  than 
that,  Sam?" 

As  the  person  addressed  made  no  response,  in  order 
to  avoid  an  embarrassing  silence,  Mr.  Carter  proceeded 
with  his  cross-examination. 

"What  do  you  want  an  appointment  for,  anyway? 
You  are  not  particularly  bloodthirsty  are  you?  Per- 
sons who  have  led  a  bucolic  existence  in  early  life 
seldom  hunger  after  a  military  death.  If  you  yearn 
for  a  sudden  demise  it  won't  be  necessary  for  you  to 
go  as  far  as  West  Point  to  obtain  it.  All  you  have  to 
do  is  to  keep  on  riding  fractious  horses  a  little  while 
longer  and  sooner  or  later  you  will  find  a  speedier  and 
less  hazardous  method  for  the  attainment  of  that  end. 
But  seriously,  my  boy,  have  you  any  idea  what  it  means 
to  get  an  appointment  to  the  Academy?  In  the  first 
place  you  must  have  something  of  which  boys  of  your 
age  know  nothing.  That  is  influence.  Then  suppose 
that  you  have  succeeded  in  securing  the  appointment, 
you  still  have  to  pass  a  severe  mental  and  physical 
examination.  Even  were  you  successful  in  this,  you 
must  remember  that  the  hardest  part  is  still  to  come. 
It  means  four  years  of  the  most  persevering  and  un- 
yielding application.  With  the  exception  of  a  short 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CANDIDATE  23 

vacation  at  the  end  of  your  second  year,  you  will  prob- 
ably not  see  any  of  your  relatives  or  friends  during 
that  time.  Once  graduated  from  the  Academy  you  will 
have  but  commenced  the  real  life  of  a  soldier.  That 
means  service  on  the  frontier,  campaigns  against  'red- 
skins' yearning  to  lift  those  precious  locks  of  yours, 
and  perhaps  even  war  with  some  foreign  power.  It 
may  even  mean  for  you  death  on  the  battlefield.  Have 
you  given  any  time  to  the  pleasant  contemplation  of 
all  these  things?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  I  have,  and  I  am  more  than  willing  to 
take  the  risk.  I  feel  that  I  can  take  care  of  all  the 
rest  if  I  can  only  be  given  an  opportunity." 

"Very  well  then,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "I  will 
promise  to  help  you  on  one  condition.  You  must  first 
get  the  approval  of  your  parents.  Besides  this,  I  think 
it  would  be  well  for  you  to  talk  over  the  plan  with 
Professor  Dolbier,  your  principal  at  the  academy,  and 
see  what  he  thinks  of  it.  It  would  do  no  harm  to  see 
the  professor  at  once  and  let  me  know  what  he  says 
about  it.  I  have  always  had  the  greatest  faith  in  his 
judgment." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  pride  in  the  eye  of  "Tom" 
Carter  as  a  moment  later  he  walked  rapidly  toward 
the  village,  leaving  his  nephew  to  pursue  his  way  to  the 
academy  for  the  purpose  of  interviewing  the  dis- 
tinguished head  of  that  institution.  As  he  walked  along 
he  said  musingly  to  himself,  "Well,  after  all,  the  boy 
seems  to  have  the  right  stuff  in  him.  He  may  win  out 
if  he  only  keeps  his  nerve.  Somehow  the  first  moment 


24  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

I  saw  that  bulldog  jaw  and  those  firm  lips  of  his  I 
half  suspected  something  of  this  kind." 

As  for  Burton,  he  at  once  followed  his  uncle's  advice 
and  proceeded  to  interview  the  head  of  Dolbier's 
Academy.  Knocking  timidly  at  the  door  of  the  pro- 
fessor's study,  he  was  invited  to  enter.  He  did  so  and 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  stern  monarch  of 
the  student  realm.  From  beneath  beetling  eyebrows 
glanced  a  pair  of  piercing  black  eyes.  His  face  was 
wrinkled  but  the  lines  thereof  were  indicative  of  that 
strength  of  character  which  raised  Albert  Dolbier  so 
far  above  his  fellows. 

"Well  Sam,  what  can  I  do  for  you  to-day?"  he  said 
without  seeming  to  raise  his  eyes  from  his  work. 

"Professor,  I  called  on  you  to  ask  your  opinion  as 
to  whether  it  would  be  advisable  for  me  to  try  to  get 
an  appointment  to  West  Point." 

"Do  you  really  want  to  go  there?" 

"Yes." 

"And  why?" 

"Because  I  want  to  do  something  worth  while.  Then, 
too,  I  think  I  should  like  the  life  of  a  soldier  very  well 
indeed." 

"Have  you  ever  regretted  that  you  were  not  born  of 
rich  parents?" 

"Why,  I  have  never  thought  about  the  matter  at  all, 
professor.  I  have  never  been  much  of  a  hand  to  regret 
things.  But  you  have  not  told  me  yet  whether  you 
think  well  of  my  plan  to  try  for  West  Point." 

"Yes,  on  the  whole,  I  heartily  approve  of  the  plan, 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CANDIDATE  25 

and  if  you  will  listen  to  a  few  words  of  advice  from  an 
old  man,  I  will  be  glad  to  give  them  to  you." 

Burton  gratefully  accepted  the  offer  and  Albert 
Dolbier  proceeded  in  a  half  hour's  talk  to  give  to  the 
friendless  lad  the  garnered  wisdom  of  a  lifetime. 

"In  the  first  place,  I  want  to  say  that  to  be  the  son 
of  a  poor  man  is  not  a  handicap  at  all.  It  is  the  rich 
man's  son  that  has  to  start  out  in  life  minus  the  spur 
of  actual  necessity.  Necessity,  while  she  is  always  a 
hard  task-mistress,  is  usually  a  safe  one.  If  you  take 
this  step  at  all,  you  must  be  determined  to  succeed  in  it. 
Let  me  tell  you  the  secret  of  success  in  this  world,  as 
gathered  from  a  store  of  fifty  years'  experience. 
First,  you  must  have  ambition  of  the  right  sort.  Then 
you  must  plan  far  enough  ahead  so  as  to  prepare  your- 
self for  the  part  you  have  chosen  to  play  in  this  game 
that  we  call  life.  You  must  have  sufficient  moral 
courage  to  sacrifice  present  pleasure  for  the  sake  of 
future  achievement.  If  you  succeed  in  doing  in  the  end 
what  others  have  failed  to  accomplish  and  the  world 
commences  to  applaud  you,  remain  the  same  simple, 
unaffected  person  that  you  were  when  success  seemed 
far  away.  The  greater  your  fame  the  more  approach- 
able you  should  be.  No  snob  can  ever  be  a  great  man, 
but  many  a  man  has  found  greatness  just  beyond  his 
grasp  because  he  could  not  separate  himself  from  his 
snobbishness.  Sam,  you  will  find,  as  you  move  out 
a  little  into  the  world,  that  one  of  the  greatest  helps 
is  to  find  those  that  believe  in  you.  Many  a  man's 
career  has  been  made  or  marred  by  the  presence  or  the 
lack  of  just  this  thing.  Remember  in  the  days  to  come, 


26  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

that  though  you  are  but  a  boy,  and  with  the  world  still 
before  you,  that  I  will  not  only  have  faith  in  you,  but 
I  believe  as  well,  that  you  have  a  work  to  perform  in 
this  world,  and  that  you  have  within  you  the  capability 
to  perform  that  work  like  a  man  and  a  Christian.  The 
margin  of  difference  between  the  men  who  succeed  and 
the  men  who  fail  is  very  small.  If  you  can  learn  to  do 
some  one  thing  yourself  a  very  little  better  than  your 
competitors  you  will  have  grasped  the  key  to  success; 
and  yet  always  remember  that  the  men  that  the  world 
calls  successful  are  not  always  truly  such.  Some  whose 
careers  have  been  branded  as  failures  have  achieved  the 
truest  success.  As  a  soldier  you  should  know  that  many 
a  commander  is  strong  enough  to  stand  defeat  but  few 
know  how  to  reap  the  benefits  of  victory.  In  battles 
as  well  as  in  life  the  man  who  never  knows  when  he  is 
defeated  has  within  him  the  rudiments  of  victory.  Be 
fair  to  others  and  the  world  wiU  always  be  fair  to  you. 
Heaven  has  no  favorites,  but  the  world  has  many. 
Success  achieved  by  means  of  la,  pull'  is  no  success  at 
all.  Many  a  brute  has  undaunted  physical  courage,  but 
to  man  alone  is  vouchsafed  power  to  be  morally  brave 
and  courageous.  There  are  other  kinds  of  honesty  in 
this  world  besides  the  unwillingness  to  pick  another 
man's  pockets.  Have  these,  but  possess  intellectual 
honesty  as  well.  It  is  right  to  aspire  to  the  highest 
position,  but  while  doing  so  do  not  fail  to  realize  that 
there  are  only  a  few  grand  prizes  to  be  won  by  any 
generation,  and  these  belong  by  right  to  the  man  who 
has  the  clearness  of  vision  to  see  the  opportunity,  the 
capacity  to  plan  how  it  shall  be  used,  and  courage  to 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CANDIDATE  27 

utilize  it  at  the  right  moment,  and  the  perseverance  and 
wisdom  to  make  it  yield  its  best  fruit." 

Never  in  his  life  had  Sam  Burton  been  spoken  to  as 
he  had  been  by  this,  his  instructor  at  the  Maysville 
Academy.  Every  word  went  home.  Nothing  was  lost, 
nor  did  he  leave  without  expressing  in  his  homely  way 
his  gratitude  for  the  kindly  interest  and  encouragement 
there  given.  In  after  years  when  the  lad  before  him 
was  a  man  and  had  filled  the  world  with  his  renown, 
Albert  Dolbier  recalled  vividly  the  appearance  he  pre- 
sented on  this  November  afternoon.  He  could  recall 
without  difficulty  the  picture  he  then  presented — a  lad 
of  medium  height,  shoulders  slightly  stooped,  somewhat 
stockily  built,  brownish  auburn  hair,  blue  eyes,  freckled 
face,  firm  set  lips  and  bulldog  jaws — all  indicative  as 
he  even  then  believed,  of  great  possibilities  and  much 
reserve  power. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  BURTOX   HOME 

THE  home  to  which  Burton  returned  at  the  close  of 
his  year  at  the  Maysville  Academy  was  located  in  one  of 
those  narrow  valleys  which  characterize  the  country  im- 
mediately adjacent  to  the  Ohio  River.  The  rude  frame 
building  which  was  dignified  by  this  honored  appellation 
was  a  far  from  imposing  structure.  With  its  unpainted 
walls  of  pine  boards,  its  outward  aspect  was  most  disap- 
pointing. A  story  and  a  half  in  height  barely  provided 
space  for  the  three  rooms  and  a  loft  in  which  the  family 
of  three  lived,  ate  and  slept.  At  the  rear  of  the  house 
and  connected  therewith  in  a  desultory  sort  of  fashion, 
was  a  rough  barn-like  affair  known  in  that  region  as  a 
"lean-to."  This  served  as  a  sort  of  combination  kitchen 
and  storehouse.  The  loft  to  which  reference  has  been 
made,  had  long  been  the  bedroom  of  the  only  child  of 
the  Burton  household.  To  reach  it  one  had  to  make  use 
of  a  wooden  ladder  which  ascended  from  the  dining- 
room  to  the  floor  above.  This  loft  had  only  one  small 
window,  and  was  furnished  with  a  straw  bed,  a  wash- 
stand  and  a  wooden  stool.  On  the  walls  were  some 
cheap  prints.  Here  and  there  in  the  room  could  be  seen 

28 


THE  BURTON  HOME  29 

some  characteristic  treasure  of  boyhood.  In  one  corner 
was  a  muzzle-loading  shotgun.  Here  was  a  rusty  pair 
of  spurs,  while  yonder  could  be  seen  a  Mexican  saddle, 
picked  up  in  a  trade  with  some  itinerant  pedler.  But 
attention  must  now  be  paid  to  the  circumstances  which 
brought  Burton  home,  some  six  weeks  before  the  close 
of  the  school  year  at  the  Maysville  Academy. 

The  story  of  the  events  that  have  transpired  since  the 
night  of  the  farewell  party  given  by  Julia  Carter  for 
Sallie  Custis  six  months  before,  is  soon  told.  By  dint  of 
much  hard  study  on  his  own  part,  aided  by  unstinted 
encouragement  from  Mr.  Carter  and  patient  tutoring  at 
the  hands  of  Professor  Dolbier,  Burton  had  succeeded 
in  preparing  himself  very  thoroughly  for  the  entrance 
examinations  to  the  "Academy."  The  appointment 
itself  had  been  secured  very  largely  through  the  per- 
sonal efforts  and  influence  of  Mr.  Carter  and  his 
friends. 

The  news  of  his  success  in  securing  the  coveted 
honor  came  to  Burton  in  the  month  of  April,  1839.  As 
soon  as  this  was  received  he  bade  good-by  to  his  Mays- 
ville friends  and  started  home  to  make  preparations  for 
his  long  journey  eastward.  Before  leaving  his  uncle's 
house  he  shyly  requested  his  Cousin  Julia  to  write  to 
Sallie  Custis  and  tell  her  of  this  piece  of  unexpected 
good  fortune  that  had  come  to  him.  This  she  had 
promised  to  do  at  once.  Then,  after  a  farewell  visit  to 
Professor  Dolbier  and  a  long  confidential  chat  with  his 
uncle,  he  departed  for  his  Ohio  home.  He  had  not  been 
back  there  long,  before  it  dawned  on  him  that  in  many 
ways  the  life  on  the  farm  had  assumed  an  aspect  that 


30  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

was  both  new  and  strange  to  him.  As  he  knew  yet  but 
little  of  any  life  but  his  own,  he  did  not  fully  realize  its 
barrenness  and  somberness.  His  content  with  its  monot- 
onous routine,  had  all  but  vanished.  Where  before 
there  had  been  only  one  world  for  him,  there  now  were 
two.  He  felt  that  he  had  discovered  during  his  year  at 
Maysville  a  new  world  whose  uttermost  confines  only  he 
had  touched.  He  longed  to  see  more  of  it.  In  hazard- 
ing his  future  by  attempting  to  enter  West  Point,  he 
realized  that  he  was  in  a  sense  cutting  loose  from  the 
old  and  tried,  and  drifting  out  as  it  were  upon  an 
unknown  sea.  And  with  it  all  had  come  a  dim  conscious- 
ness of  the  possession  of  ambition  and  strength  he  had 
not  heretofore  dreamed  he  possessed.  The  windows  of 
a  great  soul  were  just  opening  to  let  in  the  first  light 
of  high  purpose  and  earnest  endeavor.  He  was  not  a 
lad  of  many  emotions.  Life  and  existence  meant  very 
much  the  same  thing  to  him.  The  mystery  of  it  all  had 
not  as  yet  taken  hold  upon  him.  But  in  these  later 
days  had  come  much  that  filled  him  with  wonder  and 
surprise.  « 

He  found  himself  asking  questions  that  had  never 
before  occurred  to  him.  Why  had  he  not  known  of  this 
great  world  before?  Why  had  no  one  told  him  that  in 
it  would  be  found  opportunity  for  all?  What  did  the 
future  hold  in  store  for  him? 

The  invitation  to  Maysville  and  all  that  had  occurred 
there,  were,  unknown  to  him,  the  voice  of  his  destiny 
calling  him  to  higher  things. 

He  had  been  home  several  weeks  and  was  about  to 
start  eastward,  when  to  his  surprise  he  received  a  little 


THE  BURTON  HOME  31 

note  of  congratulation,  which  bore  the  postmark  of 
Vaucluse,  Virginia.    It  read  as  follows: 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

Julia  has  written  me  of  your  appointment  to  West 
Point.  It  is  just  fine.  Your  Uncle  "Tom"  told  Julia 
to  tell  me  that  he  held  me  personally  responsible  for 
your  wanting  to  become  a  soldier,  and  that  while  you 
were  going  on  the  recommendation  of  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, you  were  really  going  there  as  my  cadet.  So  it 
seems  that  you  have  told  them  that  it  was  I  who  first 
suggested  that  you  go  to  West  Point?  Very  well,  I  am 
going  to  accept  the  responsibility  and  you  may  go  as 
"my  cadet,"  if  you  are  sure  you  will  do  me  credit.  I 
told  my  friend,  Carl  Brett,  about  you  the  other  day 
and  he  has  promised  to  look  you  up  as  soon  as  you 
arrive  at  the  Academy.  His  father  is  one  of  the  Board 
of  Visitors  this  year  and  so  they  are  going  up  there 
several  weeks  before  the  entrance  examinations  are  held. 
I  wish  you  success  in  your  career  as  a  soldier,  and 
remember  that  I  shall  always  expect  to  have  reason  to 
be  proud  of  "my  cadet." 

Your  friend, 

SALLIE  CUSTIS. 

Burton  read  the  note — brief  though  it  was — through 
several  times.  There  was  nothing  in  it  to  be  read 
between  the  lines.  It  was  merely  the  frank  expression 
of  the  good-will  and  friendly  interest  which  the  young 
southern  girl  evinced  "in  her  companion"  of  the  long 
rides  over  the  Kentucky  "pikes"  of  the  autumn  before. 


32  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

But  whatever  the  source  of  the  interest  or  the  nature  of 
the  feeling  which  inspired  it,  the  note  itself  was  treas- 
ured by  the  proud  recipient,  until  the  paper  on  which  it 
was  written  was  worn  with  much  secret  perusing.  It 
was  the  first  missive  of  the  kind  that  he  had  ever 
received  from  a  girl,  and  as  such  it  was  treasured  with 
reverent  care.  Even  at  eighteen  a  young  man  does  not 
care  to  acknowledge  to  the  world  that  he  is  a  creature 
of  sentiment.  As  much  with  a  view  to  being  by  himself 
as  from  a  desire  to  have  a  last  glimpse  of  the  cherished 
scenes  of  his  boyhood,  Burton  spent  that  afternoon 
(the  last  before  his  departure  for  the  east)  in  visiting 
the  favorite  haunts  of  his  earlier  years.  These  were  the 
swimming  pool,  the  chestnut  grove  on  the  hillside  just 
above  the  house,  and  the  summit  of  Girdletree  Hill, 
which  overlooked  the  country  for  miles  around.  Each 
was  visited  in  turn  and  each  brought  tender  memories 
of  his  boyhood  days.  They  were  all  associated  closely 
with  the  friends  of  his  childhood  and  youth.  And  a 
boy's  friends  like  a  man's,  are  the  mile-posts  that  mark 
his  progress  along  the  journey  of  life.  Some  he  leaves 
behind,  or  some  leave  him  behind;  some  he  overtakes, 
others  overtake  him.  Only  a  few  stay  abreast.  To- 
morrow he  will  say,  "Their  life  back  there  in  the  old 
home  was  once  mine,  but  mine  is  no  longer  theirs." 


CHAPTER  V 

CADET   LIFE 

IT  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  29th  of  May,  1839.  A 
steamer,  from  whose  decks  could  be  seen  the  most  per- 
fect river  view  in  America,  was  slowly  approaching 
what  are  known  as  "the  Highlands"  of  the  Hudson. 
Even  the  spirit  of  prophecy  would  scarcely  justify  the 
statement  that  it  carried  Caesar  and  his  fortunes.  But 
if  the  presence  of  the  great  Roman  general  was  want- 
ing, it  did  bear  another  aspirant  for  military  honors  in 
the  person  of  Samuel  Burton — late  of  Maysville,  Ken- 
tucky, and  just  at  present  a  candidate  for  West  Point 
under  appointment  from  the  then  member  of  Congress 
for  the  most  southerly  of  the  Congressional  Districts  of 
Ohio. 

Burton  was  just  nearing  the  end  of  what  was,  to  him, 
the  most  memorable  journey  of  his  life.  The  Ohio 
River  steamer  had  conveyed  him  as  far  as  Pittsburg, 
and  from  there  he  had  traveled  by  stage  and  canal, 
until  he  had  reached  Philadelphia.  Spending  a  few 
days  there  sight-seeing,  he  went  on  to  New  York  for 
a  short  visit  to  that  great  center  of  American  life.  He 
had  just  completed  his  inspection  of  the  great  metrop- 
olis and  was  now  embarked  on  the  last  stage  of  his  long 

33 


journey  from  his  Ohio  home  to  the  historic  Highlands 
of  the  Hudson. 

To  the  awkward,  untraveled  lad  from  the  Valley  of 
the  Ohio,  the  journey  to  the  sea-coast  had  been  one  of 
interest  and  moment.  Never  having  been  sixty  miles 
from  home  before,  everything  that  he  saw  was  new, 
strange  and  wonderful.  The  busy  scenes  on  the  Ohio, 
the  trip  by  canal  through  the  Alleghanies  from  Pitts- 
burg  to  Harrisburg  and  the  ride  by  rail  to  Philadelphia 
and  New  York  were  all  wonderful  experiences  to  his 
youthful  mind.  But  the  journey  had  meant  to  him. — 
youth  though  he  was — far  more  than  a  mere  oppor- 
tunity to  see  new  scenes  and  places.  It  had  involved  the 
severing  of  those  early  ties  which,  though  humble,  were 
nevertheless  strong  and  enduring.  The  farm,  the 
familiar  swimming  hole,  the  cattle  on  the  hills,  and  the 
little  district  schoolhouse,  each  in  turn  had  a  strong 
hold  on  the  heart-strings  of  one  over  whom  sentiment 
held  unsuspected  reign. 

But  with  all  that  behind  him,  his  mind  now  turned 
toward  the  Academy  life  which  he  hoped  was  soon  to 
open  its  doors  to  him.  He  felt  a  strange  thrill  of  min- 
gled dread  and  exultation  as  he  waited  expectantly  for 
his  first  view  of  the  historic  grounds  of  West  Point. 
He  felt  more  than  ever  before  in  his  life  his  own  short- 
comings, as  well  as  his  temerity  in  seeking  an  appoint- 
ment to  this  famous  institution.  He  felt  almost  tempt- 
ed now  to  turn  back  and  return  to  the  beaten  and  less 
hazardous  path  of  his  old  life  on  the  farm.  But  this  his 
pride,  as  well  as  his  instinctive  dislike  for  turning  back 
after  he  had  once  entered  upon  an  undertaking — 


CADET  LIFE  35 

amounting-  in  his  case  almost  to  superstition — would  not 
permit  such  thoughts  to  linger  long  in  his  mind. 

No  one  without  a  feeling  of  emotion,  can  behold  for 
the  first  time  the  picturesque  environment  of  the  famous 
military  school.  Standing  upon  the  deck  of  the  Hudson 
River  steamer  on  that  pleasant  May  day  in  1839,  the 
first  view  of  the  West  Point  buildings,  on  their  lofty 
granite  base,  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten. 

The  steamer  was  now  entering  the  narrows  with  its 
green-timbered  heights  of  cedar.  In  the  distance  could 
be  seen  Storm  King,  Crow's  Nest  and  Bull  Hill,  each 
clothed  in  deep  shades  of  evergreen.  These,  with  Fort 
Putnam,  the  buildings  on  the  Academy  grounds  as  seen 
from  the  river,  and  the  "Point"  itself,  where  the  river 
makes  its  turn,  all  fill  the  background  of  every  West 
Point  memory. 

The  passengers  were  all  crowded  forward  as  the 
steamer  rounded  a  turn  in  the  river,  and  suddenly  one 
exclaimed,  "there  is  West  Point !"  Burton's  heart  beat 
fast  and  the  blood  surged  in  his  veins.  From  the  sum- 
mit of  a  parapet  above  floated  the  national  ensign,  over 
that  cherished  scene  of  historic  associations. 

Soon  the  boat  docked,  and  Burton  found  himself 
ascending  the  steep  roadway  that  leads  to  the  Academy 
grounds  above.  This  road,  with  its  granite  retaining 
walls,  leads  sheer  up  a  precipitous  bluff  until  it  finally 
reaches  the  level  plain  above.  Approaching  the  summit, 
it  swings  sharply  to  the  left  around  gray  lichen-cov- 
ered rocks,  shaded  in  part  by  great  forest  trees,  then 
turns  to  the  right,  flanked  by  heavy  granite  rocks,  and 
emerges  upon  the  plain,  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet 


36  THE  MAX  OF  DESTINY 

above  the  river.  Riding  under  the  double  row  of  elms, 
he  traversed  the  length  of  the  drill-ground  and  found 
Rowe's  Hotel.  He  was  now  all  but  face  to  face  with  the 
"Institution"  which  for  four  years  was  to  shape  his 
destiny  and  mold  him  for  his  country's  service.  Every- 
where was  the  presence  of  unspoken  authority.  It  came 
from  turreted  buildings,  four-storied  granite  barracks, 
and  uniformed  officers  hurrying  to  and  fro,  as  well  as 
from  the  velvety  sward  of  the  parade-grounds  and  from 
the  sight  cf  the  cannon  and  trophies  of  war. 

It  would  not  be  true  to  say  that  he  had  no  misgivings 
over  the  outcome  of  this  new  and  momentous  venture 
which  now  confronted  him.  What  youth  of  eighteen 
would  not  have  had  doubts  under  such  circumstances? 
But  for  the  moment,  at  least,  his  thoughts  were  on  the 
more  immediate  duties  which  now  confronted  him.  He 
had  determined  not  to  report  his  presence  to  the  author- 
ities immediately  on  his  arrival,  but  to  postpone  the 
announcement  of  that  important  fact  for  a  few  days 
until  he  had  opportunity  to  look  around  him  a  little. 

Inquiry  brought  him  the  information  that  two  weeks 
must  elapse  before  he  could  take  his  entrance  examina- 
tion, and  this  would  give  him  abundant  time  and  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  the  country  around  West  Point,  as  well 
as  permit  him  to  make  acquaintance  with  many  of  his 
future  classmates,  some  of  whom  had  already  registered 
at  the  hotel  where  he  was  now  temporarily  stopping. 

The  very  first  of  these  to  present  himself  was  a  tall, 
handsome,  black-haired  youth,  who  stepped  up  to  him 
as  he  came  out  from  dinner  at  the  hotel  on  the  evening 
of  his  arrival,  and  inquired  if  his  name  was  "Burton." 


CADET  LIPE  37 

Receiving  proper  assurance  on  this  point,  he  in  turn 
introduced  himself  as  Carl  Brett  of  Virginia.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  the  person  thus  addressed  heard  the 
name  of  his  interlocutor  with  no  little  trepidation.  He 
had  heard  so  much  of  Brett  from  Sallie  Custis  that  he 
had  long  since  come  to  picture  him  as  a  prodigy  of 
learning  and  accomplishments.  Having  seen  him  in  the 
flesh,  he  lost  no  time  in  proceeding  to  verify  this  precon- 
ceived conception  of  the  cadet  from  Virginia.  Even  a 
less  fair-minded  rival  than  Burton  would  have  willingly 
admitted  that  Brett  was  as  fine  a  specimen  of  physical 
manhood  as  one  could  find  anywhere.  He  had  a  natural 
military  carriage  which  bespoke  the  born  soldier.  His 
manner  was  winning  and  pleasant.  No  matter  where 
you  placed  him  he  was  sure  to  be  at  ease.  The  only 
features  to  mar  an  exceptionally  attractive  face  were 
a  weak  mouth  and  an  eye  that  seemed  to  lack  deep 
feeling. 

Brett  frankly  admitted  to  Burton  that  he  had  been 
ordered  by  a  young  lady  friend  of  his  to  look  him  up 
as  soon  as  he  should  report  at  the  Academy.  This  ref- 
erence to  Sallie  Custis  brought  an  unwonted  heighten- 
ing of  color  to  Burton's  sunburned  face,  which  was  by 
no  means  lost  on  Brett.  After  chatting  a  few  moments 
on  general  topics,  they  parted,  with  the  agreement  that 
they  should  meet  on  the  morrow  for  a  stroll  around 
the  grounds. 

The  next  day,  under  the  skilful  pilotage  of  the  more 
sophisticated  Virginian,  Burton  made  the  rounds  that 
so  many  cadets  have  made  before  him.  Every  little 
while  they  would  stop  for  an  introduction  to  some 


38  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

f  ellow-plebe,  or  to  be  presented  to  some  of  the  Academy 
officials.  Occasionally  a  faintly  concealed  smile  greeted 
the  twain  as  they  went  hither  and  thither  on  their  tour 
of  inspection.  This  was  particularly  noticeable  when- 
ever they  passed  some  of  the  gay  throngs  of  girls  who 
had  arrived  for  the  commencement  week  festivities.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  the  smiles  were  invariably 
directed  toward  Burton,  whose  characteristic  rustic 
appearance  betokened  the  presence  of  a  newly  arrived 
"plebe."  After  a  very  enjoyable  two  hours  spent  in 
this  manner  with  Brett,  Burton  excused  himself  and 
returned  to  his  room  at  the  hotel.  For  the  present 
there  was  nothing  to  do  except  to  get  acquainted  with 
his  roommates  and  await  the  arrival  of  the  rest  of  the 
incoming  cadets. 

Shortly  after  this  he  went  to  the  adjutant's  office 
to  register  his  name,  a  step  which  signified  his  willing- 
ness to  enter  upon  some  future  possible  honors  and 
many  certain  woes.  He  found  there  the  Adjutant 
Lieutenant  Wagaman,  and  in  a  moment  had  crossed  the 
Rubicon  which  separates  the  military  from  the  civil  life. 
This  officer  took  Burton's  name,  the  occupation  of  his 
father  and  the  latter's  name.  Next  he  was  turned  over 
to  a  soldierly  orderly  and  was  soon  filing  along  behind 
him  toward  the  barracks.  As  he  approached  the  bar- 
racks he  perceptibly  increased  his  speed,  in  an  effort  to 
escape  a  shower  of  missiles  which  proceeded  from  the 
"cockloft,"  trajected  in  his  direction  as  a  questionable 
form  of  greeting  from  the  "yearlings"  or  class  above. 
The  orderly  led  him  away  across  the  area,  up  the  iron 
steps  to  the  stoop  and  then  into  one  of  the  rooms. 


CADET  LIFE  39 

Within  was  a  cadet  officer,  detailed  to  take  charge  of 
the  new  cadets.  In  stentorian  tones  came  the  order — 
"Take  your  hat  off."  Burton  at  once  complied.  "Stand 
at  attention,"  was  next  hurled  at  him  in  a  voice  seem- 
ingly full  of  suppressed  rage.  The  speaker  seemed 
disposed  from  the  glare  of  his  eye,  to  pounce  upon  the 
new  arrival  and  rend  him  limb  from  limb.  Next  the 
cadet  who  had  already  offered  him  so  many  undesirable 
attentions  turned  and,  with  mock  servility,  said,  "May 
I  have  the  pleasure,  sir?"  and  immediately  passed  out  of 
the  room.  As  he  did  so,  Burton  followed.  He  was  'led 
up  four  stairways  to  the  cockloft,  and  ushered  into  one 
of  the  rooms  of  that  "realm  of  earth-encumbering 
souls."  Then,  pointing  to  a  copy  of  the  posted  regula- 
tions, printed  on  blue  paper  in  black  type,  he  announced 
that  when  Burton's  trunk  was  delivered  he  would  see  to 
it  that  these  regulations  were  obeyed  to  the  letter. 

The  moment  the  door  had  closed  on  his  stern  mentor, 
Burton  gazed  hopelessly  into  the  faces  of  the  other  oc- 
cupants of  the.  room,  all  apparently  equally  hopeless  as 
himself.  But  as  the  footsteps  of  the  cadet  officer  died 
away  in  the  distance,  their  faces  broadened  into  a  smile 
of  amusement.  The  new  arrival  was  not  the  only  one 
present  who  had  been  through  this  rough  school  of 
experience. 

The  room  in  the  old  North  Barracks,  in  which  Burton 
now  found  himself,  he  soon  learned  was  referred  to  by 
the  high-sounding  title  of  "Room  1,  Rue  de  Cockloft." 
As  he  entered  its  sacred  precincts  for  the  first  time  this 
day,  escorted  by  his  stern  mentor,  he  found  it  already 
tenanted  by  three  youths  who  were  destined  to  be  his 


40 

companions  in  that  abode  of  misery  known  as  "plebe- 
dom."  He  was  not  long  in  making  their  acquaintance. 
One,  who  through  Academy  days,  as  well  as  in  after  life, 
was  referred  to  as  "Dad"  Rankin,  was  a  round-faced 
Yankee  lad  from  Maine.  The  second  was  from  Ken- 
tucky— Theodore  Chadbourne  by  name.  The  third,  the 
youngest  man  of  the  class,  came  from  the  nearby  village 
of  Montrose-on-the-Hudson,  and  was  early  christened 
"Babe"  Candee.  Drawn  together  by  their  common 
misery  and  homesickness,  the  four  lads  speedily  became 
fast  friends.  This  acquaintance  so  auspiciously  begun, 
was  destined  to  continue  throughout  future  years. 

After  chatting  a  few  moments  with  his  new  friends, 
and  exchanging  experiences  of  recent  date,  Burton  pro- 
ceeded to  unpack  his  few  personal  effects  and  dispose  of 
them  under  the  direction  of  his  more  experienced  room- 
mates. 

As  soon  as  the  class  of  '43  had  all  reported,  they 
were  summoned  to  the  dreaded  mental  and  physical 
examinations.  Burton's  heart  quickened  within  him  as 
he  saw  that  august  body  known  as  the  Academy  Board. 
In  the  center  sat  the  Superintendent,  Major  Richard 
Delafield,  a  man  with  heavy  sandy  eyebrows,  abundant 
grayish  hair  and  a  prominent  nose.  He  wore  glasses 
and  had  the  air  of  an  officer  and  a  man  of  cultivation. 
On  his  right  sat  Charles  F.  Smith,  the  Commandant,  a 
man  of  magnificent  carriage  and  a  soldier  every  inch 
of  him.  He  it  was  who  made  the  most  impression  on 
Burton.  Then  there  were  the  professors,  Mahan, 
Church,  Bartlett  and  the  rest.  The  examinations  did 
not  prove  half  as  trying  as  Burton  had  anticipated, 


CADET  LIFE  41 

and  he  came  through  them  with  excellent  credit.  Then 
it  was  that  he  found  himself  duly  permitted  to  com- 
mence his  career  as  a  West  Point  cadet.  Yes,  at  last  the 
first  goal  in  youth's  attempt  to  find  its  real  self  had  been 
attained.  But  this  was  one  of  many  unknown  quantities 
that  must  be  discovered  by  his  own  unaided  efforts  be- 
fore the  mysterious  equation  of  what  the  great  future 
had  in  store  for  him,  would  be  finally  solved.  Truly, 
Heaven  has  not  vouchsafed  to  man  any  more  sublime 
spectacle  than  the  struggle  of  a  truly  great  soul  to  find 
itself.  The  development  of  such  a  one  is  not  subject 
to  the  same  laws  that  govern  the  lives  of  ordinary  mor- 
tals. God  and  man  may  seem  at  times  to  conspire  to 
delay  unduly  the  day  of  its  appearing.  But  sooner  or 
later — perhaps  under  the  storm  and  stress  of  some 
Titanic  struggle  or  out  of  the  utter  desolation  of  ap- 
parent failure — the  real  "man  of  destiny"  will  appear, 
to  control  with  his  single  hand  the  destiny  of  nations  as 
the  chosen  instrument  of  the  Providence  of  God. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  story  of  Burton's  first  two  years  at  the  Point  in 
its  main  features  are  soon  told.  More  than  sixty 
youths,  ranging  in  age  from  sixteen  to  eighteen,  had 
been  gathered  from  various  parts  of  the  country  to 
make  up  the  "plebe"  class  at  West  Point,  to  be  after- 
ward known  in  history  as  the  "class  of  1843."  Of  this 
number  scarcely  one  had  known  any  other  member  of 
the  class  before  their  arrival  at  the  Academy.  Events 
of  momentous  consequence,  not  only  to  themselves 
but  to  the  nation  at  large,  were  to  hinge  upon  the 
friendships  and  the  knowledge  gained  from  the  experi- 
ences of  their  Academy  days. 

None  of  the  newly  arrived  "plebes"  had  much  oppor- 
tunity or  time  for  indulging  in  homesickness,  even  had 
they  been  so  inclined.  For,  almost  from  the  day  of 
their  arrival,  they  were  introduced  to  the  never-ending 
grind  of  cadet  drill.  Twice  a  day  they  were  drawn  up 
in  line  by  some  of  the  yearlings  and  in  awkward  squad 
and  civilian  dress,  were  commanded  in  harsh  tones — 
"eyes  right,  left  face,  forward,  march!" — and  other 
equally  nonsensical  things.  They  were  drummed  up  in 
the  morning,  drummed  to  their  meals  in  the  daytime, 

42 


A    NIGHT    AT    "BENNY  HAVENS"        43 

and  peaceably  drummed  to  their  bed  at  night.  Finally, 
after  continual  drilling,  backed  up  by  their  safe  pas- 
sage through  the  dreaded  ordeal  of  examination,  they 
were  permitted  to  cast  aside  their  civilian  clothes  in 
order  to  don  the  cadet  uniform  of  gray  cloth,  with  bell- 
shaped  buttons,  black  cord  and  white  trimmings.  Later 
came  preparations  for  the  summer  encampment  on  the 
southwest  side  of  the  Academy  grounds,  in  which  all  the 
cadets  save  the  second  class,  who  were  off  on  a  furlough, 
took  part.  This  completed,  the  barracks  were  rapidly 
cleaned  out,  and  the  entire  cadet  corps  marched  to  the 
encampment  ground,  there  to  take  up,  for  the  summer, 
their  out-door  life  in  the  tent. 

At  the  end  of  August  the  encampment  was  broken  up 
and  the  cadet  corps  returned  once  more  to  the  barracks 
to  resume  again  the  work  in  the  class-room.  Then  com- 
menced the  real  and  more  serious  student  life.  Burton 
now  for  the  first  time  came  in  personal  contact  with 
these  august  personages,  the  Superintendent  of  the 
Academy,  Major  Delafield;  Commandant  of  cadets, 
Charles  F.  Smith;  the  young  adjutants,  Joseph  Hooker 
and  Irwin  McDowell;  the  famous  veteran  professors, 
Mahan,  Church,  Swift,  Bartlett ;  and  later  the  famous 
riding  master,  Henry  Hershberger.  He  soon,  too,  be- 
came acquainted  with  a  number  of  the  upper  classmen, 
many  of  whom  already  bore  such  reputations  in  the 
Academy  world  as  to  be  prophetic  of  their  success  in 
wider  fields  later  on. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  first  year  of  his  life  at  the 
Academy  Burton  was  invited  by  some  of  his  classmates 
to  make  a  stolen  visit  to  the  sacred  precincts  of  "Benny 


44 

Havens,"  and  he  finally  determined  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion so  extended.  "Benny's"  was  a  favorite  resort  on 
the  outer  edge  of  the  Academy  grounds,  beneath  the 
rugged  cliffs,  nearly  a  mile  below  the  Point.  To  reach 
"Benny  Havens'  "  sequestered  hostelry  under  the  hill,  it 
was  necessary  to  skulk  by  and  under  Fort  Putnam  be- 
neath the  rocks  and  through  stony  fields,  at  the  same 
time  carefully  avoiding  the  traveled  highway  and  the 
lookouts  of  Cozzen's  Hotel.  This  gained,  the  visitor 
could  then  make  a  rapid  march  across  the  road,  fol- 
lowed by  a  plunge  down  the  bank  to  the  cherished  tryst- 
ing  place  for  "lost  souls." 

Here  not  only  were  the  more  daring  of  the  cadets 
wont  to  clandestinely  gather  for  an  evening,  but  not 
infrequently  there  came  from  the  outside  world  a  staid, 
gray-haired  veteran  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  devout 
pilgrimage  to  "Benny's"  shrine.  This  sanctuary  of 
"Havens'  "  had  a  big  fire-place,  in  which,  during  cold 
weather,  a  roaring  fire  was  always  blazing.  In  this 
place  the  cup  that  inebriates  could  always  be  had,  over 
which  presided  the  historic  "Benny"  himself,  smooth  of 
face,  good-natured,  sleek  and  fat. 

But  to  return  now  to  the  story  of  Burton's  first  visit 
to  "Benny  Havens'."  It  was  a  cold  November  night  in 
the  fall  of  1839.  The  Academy  buildings  at  West  Point 
were,  save  as  to  the  officers'  quarters,  wrapped  in  total 
darkness.  Lights  had  been  out  in  the  old  north  bar- 
racks for  more  than  half  an  hour,  when  there  came  a 
soft  knock  at  the  door  of  what  had  been  styled  by  its 
three  "plebe"  inmates  "Room  No.  1,  Rue  de  Cockloft." 

A  whispered  "Who's  there?"  was  answered  by  the 


A    NIGHT    AT    "BENNY  HAVENS'"       45 

ungrammatical  but  very  assuring  words,  "It's  me — 
Brett." 

The  door  was  then  opened  softly  to  disclose  Cadet 
Burton  and  his  three  roommates,  "Dad"  Rankin,  Chad- 
bourne  and  "Babe"  Candee.  They  were  partly  dressed 
and  were  evidently  not  unprepared  for  this  nocturnal 
call. 

"We  are  all  ready,  fellows,"  said  the  young  Virgin- 
ian, in  a  low  voice.  "Nykins,  Bob  Tapley  and  I  will 
wait  for  you  down  below  on  the  north  side  of  the 
building." 

Brett's  head  was  then  withdrawn,  and  perfect  silence 
reigned  once  more  on  the  top  floor  of  the  old  Nortfr 
Barracks.  A  moment  later  four  dark  figures  might  have 
been  seen  descending  the  creaking  stairs  in  their  stock- 
ing feet  to  the  area  floor  below.  There  they  stopped  a 
moment  to  put  on  their  shoes,  which  they  were  carrying 
in  their  hands,  and  soon  joined  their  fellow  conspirators 
who  were  waiting  for  them  outside. 

After  leaving  the  "Barracks,"  the  scouting  party 
executed  a  series  of  strategic  moves,  all  planned  with 
the  evident  purpose  of  evading  the  kindly  attentions  of 
the  "powers  that  be."  The  cadets  were  so  successful 
in  their  military  maneuvers  that  hardly  ten  minutes 
elapsed  before  the  enemy's  outposts  had  all  been  safely 
passed,  and  they  found  themselves  safe  and  sound 
beneath  the  rugged  cliffs  nearly  a  mile  below  the 
"Point."  To  reach  their  destination,  whatever  it  might 
be,  the  daring  plebes  had  to  pass  by  and  beyond  Fort 
Putnam  beneath  the  rocks  and  at  times  over  stony  em- 
bankments. They  carefully  evaded  in  their  circuitous 


46  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

route  the  traveled  highway  that  leads  from  the  Acad- 
emy fields  to  Cozzen's  Hotel.  After  traveling  in  Indian 
file  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Brett  in  the  lead, 
they  came  to  a  sequestered  building  from  the  closed 
shutters  of  which  there  came  a  gleam  of  friendly  light 
from  within. 

"Come  in,  fellows,"  said  Brett,  and  with  the  assur- 
ance of  a  man  many  years  his  senior,  he  led  his  daring 
band  through  the  hospitable  door  of  "Benny  Havens' ' 
hostelry — the  favorite  stamping  ground  of  the  con- 
vivially  inclined.  With  all  the  aplomb  of  an  habitue  of 
the  place,  Brett  introduced  all  of  his  friends  to  the 
famous  "Benny"  himself.  The  latter,  out  of  respect  to 
his  avoirdupois,  did  not  arise  from  his  seat  before  the 
open  fire-place  as  he  greeted  his  youthful  visitors  with 
complacent  cordiality.  He  invited  them  to  a  seat  before 
the  hearth,  where  a  roaring  fire  was  blazing,  and  ex- 
pressed his  pleasure  at  welcoming  the  new  arrivals  to 
the  shrine  where  was  to  be  found  the  cup  that  not  only 
cheers,  but  also  not  infrequently  inebriates.  The  seven 
youths  seated  themselves  with  ill  affected  ease  at  one 
of  the  tables  and  ordered  food  and  drink  for  themselves. 
At  first  they  were  visibly  embarrassed,  but  the  cheerful 
fire  and  the  arrival  of  refreshments  drove  away  all  fear 
from  their  minds,  and  they  were  soon  having  a  most 
hilarious  time.  Brett,  who  was  a  born  leader,  acted  as 
master  of  ceremonies,  and  so  convivial  a  company  could 
not  have  asked  for  a  better  one. 

After  the  viands  had  all  been  disposed  of,  and  the 
drinks  ordered,  he  arose  in  his  chair  and,  holding  aloft 
a  stein  of  mammoth  proportions,  proposed,  with  great 


A    NIGHT    AT    "BENNY    HAVENS"        47 

gravity,  a  toast  "To  the  Army  and  its  representatives 
here  assembled."  This  was  drunk  with  proper  cere- 
mony, and  was  followed  by  repeated  demands  for  a 
speech  from  the  toastmaster.  Nothing  loth,  Brett 
stepped  upon  a  chair,  and  after  eulogizing  in  glorious 
terms,  their  rotund  host  and  the  occasion,  called  upon 
all  the  convivial  souls  present  to  join  him  in  singing,  in 
honor  of  their  famous  host,  that  immortal  "anthem" 
known  as  "Benny  Havens  !  Oh !" 

The  cadets  there  assembled,  nothing  loth,  soon  were 
raising  the  rafters  with  the  well-known  words,  the  first 
verse  of  which  is  to  the  following  effect : 

"Come  fill  your  glasses,  fellows,  and  stand  up  in  a  row, 
To  singing  sentimentally,  we're  going  for  to  go. 
In  the  army  there's  sobriety,  promotion's  very  slow, 
So  we'll  sing  our  reminiscences  of  Benny  Havens !  Oh ! 

Oh,  Benny  Havens !  Oh !   Benny  Havens !  Oh ! 

So  we'll  sing  our  reminiscences  of  Benny  Havens,  Oh ! 

Then  followed  the  other  stanzas,  one  after  the  other, 
the  cadets  all  standing,  and  touching  glasses  every  time 
the  chorus  was  sung.  After  the  tones  of  the  last  note 
had  died  away,  there  were  renewed  calls  for  more  elo- 
quence from  the  now  plainly  mellowed  toastmaster. 
Carried  away  by  the  uproarious  character  of  the  invi- 
tation, Brett  proceeded  to  address  his  now  equally 
loquacious  classmates  in  a  speech,  the  traditions  of 
which  lived  at  the  Academy  long  years  after  the  gifted 
author  of  it  had  left  its  classic  halls. 

"Comrades,  this    is  a    momentous    occasion.     Never 


48  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

before  have  'plebes'  gathered  together  in  such  numbers 
beneath  Benny  Havens'  hospitable  roof.  In  the  past 
there  have  been  few  greater  events  than  this  in  all  his- 
tory. We  celebrate  to-night  around  this  festive  board 
our  advent  on  the  field  of  military  glory  and  renown.  I 
cannot  restrain  myself  from  assuring  you  all  that  even 
the  triumph  of  our  present  great  achievement  will  fade 
into  insignificance  before  the  high  honors  that  the  fu- 
ture undoubtedly  holds  in  store  for  us." 

At  this  point  the  speaker  had  to  pause,  while  the 
cheers  which  "Dad"  Rankin  called  for,  in  a  voice  which 
was  suspiciously  husky,  had  subsided.  The  leader  then 
continued : 

"Never  before  in  this  land  of  the  brave  and  the  home 
of  the  free,  has  there  been  assembled  a  more  brilliant 
galaxy  of  military  talent  than  I  see  before  me  to-night. 
With  us  to  lean  on  in  all  great  emergencies,  the  nation 
will  be  safe  from  harm.  The  army  must  always  have 
leaders,  and  we  are,  of  course,  the  most  available 
material  for  that  purpose.  Your  presence  here  to-nigKl 
bespeaks  for  you  all  the  possession  of  the  stuff  that 
heroes  are  made  of.  [Loud  applause,  accompanied  by 
weeping  on  the  part  of  Rankin.]  Remember,  fellows, 
that  the  country  is  educating  us  for  war  as  well  as  for 
peace.  If  war  does  come,  Uncle  Sam  must  have  strate- 
gists and  tacticians  in  order  to  drive  the  invaders  from 
our  soil. 

"How  can  the  learned  gentlemen  who  occupy  so  much 
of  our  valuable  time  in  the  classroom  expect  us  to  be- 
come great  strategists  and  tacticians,  unless  we  have 
the  benefit  of  such  object  lessons  as  the  one  which  has 


A    NIGHT    AT    "BENNY  HAVENS"        49 

been  our  good  fortune  to  experience  to-night?  In  our 
triumphal  march  from  the  old  North  Barracks  to 
Benny's  door,  'Old  Sniffley'  [here  the  speaker's  voice 
was  drowned  by  groans  called  forth  by  the  mention  of 
the  name  of  the  unpopular  personage  whose  lot  it  was 
to  spy  upon  the  cadets  in  their  quarters]  has  been 
completely  outgeneraled,  and  we  have  demonstrated  to 
the  world  [here  the  speaker  bowed  low  in  Benny's  direc- 
tion] that  we  are  past  masters  in  both  tactics  and 
strategy.  And  now,  fellows,  after  drinking  the  toast 
to  our  dear  friends,  the  Faculty — who  are  unaccount- 
ably absent  on  this  great  occasion — let  us  all  brace  our- 
selves, while  that  great  impressario,  'Dad*  Rankin, 
sings  that  glorious  anthem  of  the  Order  of  Inebriates 
known  as  'Willie  Brews  a  Peck  o'  Malt'." 

Brett  sat  down  amid  cheers  so  uproarious  that  it 
might  easily  have  been  heard  by  the  Commandant  had 
the  wind  been  blowing  in  his  direction.  So  unusual  was 
this,  that  it  caused  Benny  himself  to  appear  on  the 
scene  with  a  mild  expostulation  that  his  "friends  de 
poys  must,  make  less  noise." 

"Dad"  Rankin  essayed  Brett's  feat  of  standing  in  a 
rhair  while  graciously  complying  with  his  associates' 
demand  for  the  song,  but  found  himself  unequal  for  the 
task.  He  did,  however,  succeed,  with  great  effort,  in 
standing  on  the  floor,  where,  flanked  by  four  chairs 
strategically  placed,  he  rendered  the  famous  song.  Aft- 
er the  emotion  caused  by  his  efforts  had  been  partially 
removed  by  another  round  of  drinks,  each  of  the 
remaining  cadets  was  called  upon  to  add  his  share  to  the 
gayety  of  the  occasion.  Burton  was  beguiled  into 


50  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

attempting  a  declamation  of  the  "Burial  of  Sir  John 
Moore,"  to  the  accompaniment  of  uproarious  applause 
on  "Dad"  Rankin's  part.  But  this  ended  in  failure. 
Then  it  was  that  the  fact  that  it  required  only  a  little 
liquor  to  throw  Burton  into  a  state  of  semi-intoxication 
was  indelibly  impressed  on  the  mind  of  Carl  Brett. 
Long  years  afterward,  amid  other  scenes,  this  was  all 
to  come  back  to  him  with  great  vividness. 

It  was  nearly  the  hour  of  one  in  the  morning,  before 
the  program  was  completed  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
Academy  visitors.  At  that  hour  Brett  called  the  roll, 
marshaled  his  cohorts  together,  and  started  off  at  a 
slow  pace  for  the  Barracks,  to  the  tune  of  "We  Won't 
Go  Home  Until  Morning."  After  some  preliminary 
scouting  by  the  more  sober  of  the  party,  the  cadets 
regained  their  quarters  in  safety,  and  the  memorable 
"plebe"  expedition  to  Benny  Havens'  went  down  in  the 
Academy  annals  as  a  classic,  fit  to  be  inserted  in  Jom- 
jnini's  famous  "Treatise  on  the  Strategy  of  War." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  FURLOUGH 

THE  one  great  oasis  in  the  life  of  the  West  Point 
cadet  is  the  furlough  which  comes  midway  between 
entrance  and  graduation  at  the  Academy.  Cadet  Bur- 
ton had  passed  successfully  from  the  "plebe"  stage  to 
that  of  the  "yearling,"  and  now  his  days  in  that  ca- 
pacity were  rapidly  approaching  their  close.  The  past 
two  years  had  been  exceedingly  pleasant  as  well  as 
profitable  ones  to  him.  He  had  taken  an  excellent  stand 
in  his  studies  and  had  been  fairly  proficient  in  drill.  As 
for  horsemanship,  there  were  none  in  the  class  that 
thought  of  contesting  the  honors  with  him  along  this 
line,  with  the  one  exception  of  Cadet  Brett.  By  no  one 
in  the  Academy  had  the  two  months'  summer  furlough 
been  looked  forward  to  with  more  pleasure  than  it  had 
by  Burton.  There  was  a  special  reason  why  this  was  so. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1841,  Mr.  Thomas  Carter  had 
journeyed  southward  with  his  daughter  Julia  as  far  as 
Richmond,  Virginia.  There  the  latter  had  met  Sallie 
Custis,  who  was  visiting  with  friends  at  the  Virginia 
Capital,  and  had  been  persuaded  to  go  for  a  visit  of 
indefinite  duration  to  the  house  of  her  friend  at  Vau- 
cluse.  When  the  time  had  come  for  Mr.  Carter  to 

51 


52  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

return  to  his  Kentucky  home  he  had  been  confronted 
with  the  request  that  he  permit  his  daughter  to  remain 
at  Vaucluse  until  July,  at  which  time  her  cousin,  "Sam" 
Burton,  would  be  on  his  furlough  and  could  arrange  to 
come  to  Vaucluse  and  act  as  escort  for  his  cousin  on 
her  homeward  journey.  Cadet  Burton  had  a  short  time 
before  this  been  the  recipient  of  his  second  letter  from 
Sallie  Custis,  in  which  he  had  been  most  cordially  invited 
to  be  a  guest  at  Vaucluse  on  his  homeward  journey. 
This  invitation  had  been  duly  accepted  in  a  letter,  which, 
as  "Dad"  Rankin  declared,  "was  much  longer  than  the 
occasion  required." 

Burton  and  Brett  had  arranged  that  they  would 
travel  together  on  the  trip  south.  There  was  no  ques- 
tion as  to  the  gratification  felt  by  the  former  at  the 
receipt  of  the  invitation  from  Sallie  Custis  inviting  him 
to  visit  Vaucluse.  In  his  secret  thoughts  he  had  hoped 
that  some  day  he  might  visit  her  at  her  home,  but  even 
his  dreams  had  not  carried  him  to  the  extent  of  hoping 
for  so  speedy  a  realization  of  his  aspirations  in  this 
quarter. 

Never  would  Burton  forget  his  first  view  of  Vaucluse, 
which  he  obtained  as  the  steamer  on  which  he  and  his 
fellow  cadet  had  embarked  the  night  before  at  Wash- 
ington, neared  the  steamboat  landing  at  that  point. 
Brett  pointed  out  to  him  the  Custis  home,  which  was 
situated  far  back  from  the  river,  and  was  built  of  brick. 
But  just  at  that  moment  Burton's  interest  in  the  sce- 
nery had  suddenly  died  out.  The  reason  for  this  might 
have  been  found  in  the  fact  that  he  had  spied  on  the 
dock  now  only  a  few  hundred  feet  away  the  slender 


THE  FURLOUGH  53 

figures  of  two  girls.  The  one,  he  felt  sure,  was  his 
cousin,  Julia  Carter,  the  other,  Sallie  Custis.  He 
experienced  at  that  moment  a  peculiar  sensation,  not 
unlike  that  which  came  to  him  in  later  years  when  about 
to  go  into  action.  He  would  not  have  run  away  for 
the  world,  and  yet  he  suffered  in  anticipation  of  the 
ordeal  of  meeting  the  one,  who  in  her  own  sweet,  modest 
way,  had  been  his  guiding  star  toward  higher  thoughts 
and  loftier  aspirations.  As  the  steamer  approached  the 
dock,  the  two  girls  waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  the 
young  men  waved  their  hats  in  return.  A  moment  more 
and  the  two  cadets  were  standing  on  the  dock,  receiving 
a  warm  welcome  from  the  two  girls,  who  had  come  down 
to  meet  them  in  such  an  unconventional  manner.  Sallie 
Custis  would  have  had  considerable  difficulty,  had  she 
not  been  expecting  to  see  him,  in  recognizing  her  for- 
mer Maysville  acquaintance  in  the  young  cadet  attired 
in  the  natty  tight-fitting  gray  uniform,  which  set  off 
to  great  advantage  his  erect  figure.  The  awkward,  ill- 
dressed,  diffident  country  lad  had  vanished  and  in  his 
place  there  appeared  an  easy,  self-contained  young  man 
whose  handsome  figure  was  set  off  by  a  uniform  which 
fitted  him  perfectly. 

The  greetings  of  one  and  all  were  most  cordial.  That 
of  Sallie  Custis — considering  their  previous  slight  ac- 
quaintance— was  particularly  so.  Transferring  their 
hand  luggage  to  the  care  of  some  of  the  attendant 
negroes,  the  party  walked  up  the  long  shady  walk 
toward  the  Custis  home. 

As  they  passed  through  the  field,  accompanied  by  a 
retinue  of  ebony-hued  servants,  the  outline  of  the  house 


54  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

could  be  clearly  seen,  standing  beneath  great  sentinel 
trees.  It  was  a  three-story  affair,  built  in  Colonial 
style,  with  numerous  smaller  structures  adjoining  it. 
The  house  was  supported  by  two  immense  pillars  in 
front,  all  of  which  furnished  firm  support  for  an  in- 
viting portico  which  covered  three  sides  of  the  house. 
The  wide  green  lawn  in  front  sloped  to  the  waters  of 
the  Chesapeake,  and  was  dotted  with  patriarchal  oaks, 
clustering  hollys,  wide-spreading  maples  and  feathery 
acacias.  The  presence  of  numerous  small  buildings  in 
the  immediate  vicinty  of  the  house  gave  to  the  place 
more  the  appearance  of  a  little  village  than  that  of  a 
private  residence.  Even  before  they  passed  within  the 
portals  of  the  house,  there  seemed  to  be  wafted  toward 
them  an  enticing  atmosphere  suggestive  of  the  cheer 
and  warmth  within.  At  the  extreme  right  of  the  house 
was  the  library,  with  its  shelves  full  of  great  books, 
while  outside  was  to  be  seen  shaded  nooks  and  vine-clad 
porticoes  which  looked  in  upon  French  windows  and 
dainty  muslin  curtains. 

Entering  the  front  door  from  the  Corinthian  pillared 
porch,  one  found  a  wide  hall,  running  the  entire  depth 
of  the  house,  and  opening  in  turn  upon  a  porch  in  the 
rear.  A  covered  colonnade  led  from  either  side  of 
this  rear  porch  to  the  laundry  and  the  kitchen.  Here, 
as  elsewhere,  the  architect  of  that  day  sacrificed  use  to 
beauty.  The  fact  that  the  food  became  stone  cold  on 
the  way  to  the  dining-room  was  utterly  ignored.  A 
stately  staircase,  with  a  slender  mahogany  banister  rail, 
the  newel  post  of  which  was  curiously  wrought,  rose 
from  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall. 


THE  FURLOUGH  55 

The  interior  of  the  house  was  capacious.  The  large 
roomy  hall  was  hung  with  attractive  landscapes 
throughout  its  length.  These  last  were  beautiful  sylvan 
pictures,  with  great  forest  oaks,  green  carpeted  mead- 
ows and  the  fair,  clear  sky  in  the  background. 

A  long,  low  parlor  opened  from  the  hall,  near  the 
front  doorway.  This  was  the  room  of  state,  with  its 
tall  brass  candlesticks,  white  carved  mantels,  heavy 
mahogany  furniture,  long  ebony-framed  glass,  and 
large  oaken  chairs  of  original  pattern. 

In  the  sitting-room  the  fire  crackled  upon  the  hearth, 
casting  sparks  from  sticks  of  pine  and  hickory,  while 
the  brazen  andirons  reflected  the  red  carpeting  upon 
their  well-polished  surfaces. 

Treasures  of  marble,  bronze,  porcelain  and  silver 
were  scattered  here  and  there. 

The  cushions  of  the  comfortable  chairs  which  faced 
the  fire-place  were  of  brown  Spanish  leather,  admirably 
preserved.  Iron  candelabra,  six  foot  in  height,  and  a 
large  ship  lantern  lighted  up  the  rows  of  the  family 
portraits,  which  here  and  there  lined  the  walls. 

From  the  entrance  hall  led  a  broad  staircase,  easy  of 
ascent,  to  the  rooms  above,  while  from  beyond  opened 
the  dining-room,  with  its  paper  of  cerulean  blue  and 
carpet  to  match. 

Of  the  Virginia  planter  of  antebellum  days,  his  enor- 
mous wealth,  his  culture,  refinement  of  taste,  his  mar- 
velous luxury  of  life,  the  whole  truth  has  never  been 
told. 

He  was  a  veritable  potentate,  ruling  his  black  minions 
as  absolutely  as  any  despot  of  old.  He  was  firm  in  the 


56  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

belief  that  he  and  his  people  were  the  chosen  of  the 
Almighty  to  rule  and  govern  their  fellows.  Slavery  was 
the  root  and  branch  of  the  whole  system.  Well  did 
those  planters  know,  that  to  root  it  out  was  to  destroy 
the  tree  itself.  There  have  never  been  any  men  like 
those  self-made  southern  planters  in  this  country,  unless 
the  old  patroons  of  the  Dutch  settlements  are  excepted, 
and  even  they  seem  rude  and  rough  by  the  comparison. 
The  old-time  southern  planter  was  not  a  farmer.  He 
was  a  great  lord  and  the  owner  of  serfs,  with  virtual 
powers  of  life  and  death. 

Judge  Custis  owned  a  house  in  Richmond,  where  he 
spent  his  winters,  but  for  the  greater  part  of  his  time  he 
lived  in  his  chateau  on  the  Chesapeake,  there  entertain- 
ing and  really  enjoying  life.  This  was  his  real  home, 
and  on  this  place  he  spent  vast  sums  of  money. 

Even  at  a  first  glance  the  mind  of  "Sam"  Burton  was 
deeply  impressed  with  these  wondrous  family  portraits 
which  lined  the  walls,  for  he  had  never  before  seen  any- 
thing of  this  kind  in  his  limited  experience.  There  were 
pictures  of  stately  dames  in  maidenly  and  matronly 
beauty.  Powdered  hair  and  high-heeled  spangled  shoes 
and  traditional  brocades  were  all  pictured  there.  In 
more  than  one  of  the  faces  he  could  detect  features 
which  were  possessed  by  the  daughter  of  the  household 
wherein  he  was  an  invited  guest. 

The  library,  however,  as  the  visitor  soon  learned,  was 
the  favorite  abode  of  the  family.  When  not  there,  they 
could  usually  be  found  on  the  cool  back  porches  with 
their  covering  of  twining  woodbine  and  white  jessamine. 
From  the  roadway  in  front  the  path  was  laid  through 


THE  FURLOUGH  57 

an  ornamental  gateway  to  "Little  Neck  Point,"  with  its 
orchard,  grass  and  superb  oaks.  Upon  this  place  was 
placed  a  rustic  seat  in  a  clump  of  holly  and  oak,  offer- 
ing a  fine  viewpoint  from  which  to  gaze  upon  the  far- 
reaching  and  changing  waters  of  the  Chesapeake. 
Early  sunrises  were  to  be  seen  here,  too,  by  him  who  was 
venturesome  enough  to  arise  and  see  them.  Gold,  purple 
and  crimson  they  were  with  a  mingling  of  wavy  sky. 

Then  there  was  a  walk  through  a  garden  to  a  creek 
which  opened  upon  the  bay,  where  were  the  prettiest  of 
sailboats  imaginable.  This,  with  the  abounding  stables, 
was  to  furnish  Burton  with  unfailing  resources  in  the 
way  of  amusement  during  his  visit  to  Vaucluse.  The 
whole  scene  was  the  first  touch  of  real  romance  that  had 
ever  come  into  his  life.  His  surroundings  scarcely 
seemed  real ;  they  partook  more  of  fairyland  than  of 
aught  else.  As  if  by  magic  he  had  been  transported  to 
some  land  of  enchantment.  Everything  about  contrived 
to  give  him  this  impression.  His  own  room,  with  an 
enormous  canopied  bed  and  rich  furnishings,  the  high 
ceilings  and  richly  furnished  rooms  of  the  old  colonial 
house,  the  Judge  with  his  courtly  manner,  imperial  wilT 
and  pride  of  race,  the  stately  mistress  of  the  establish- 
ment, whose  every  lineament  and  act  betokened  her  gen- 
tle breeding  and  inborn  gentility,  the  great  estate  with 
its  multitude  of  slaves  and  abundance,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  the  fair  young  mistress,  Sallie  Custis  herself,  gave 
the  finishing  touches  to  what  was  the  realization  of  his 
dearest  dream,  to  see  Vaucluse,  the  ancestral  home  of 
the  Custis  family.  He  saw  much  of  Judge  Custis  dur- 
ing the  days  that  followed,  and  studied  him  well.  At 


58  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

times  he  wondered  at  the  manner  of  man  he  was  and  at 
his  easy  mode  of  life.  Young  and  inexperienced  though 
he  was,  he  had  the  good  sense  to  realize  that  none  could 
truly  judge  such  a  life  as  was  led  by  him  and  those  of 
his  own  station,  save  those  who  have  themselves  lived  it. 
During  the  days  of  his  visit  at  Vaucluse  he  came  to 
know  his  young  hostess  in  a  way  that  had  never  been 
opened  to  him  before.  Heretofore  she  had  seemed  to 
belong  to  a  world  separate  and  apart  from  his.  Her 
attitude  up  to  this  time  had  been  more  that  of  one  who 
in  kindness  of  heart  and  friendly  sympathy  was  reach- 
ing down  to  help  him  rise  to  his  level.  But  now  all  this 
had  changed.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  now 
meeting  her  day  by  day  on  terms  of  absolute  equality. 
During  all  this  time  he  was  persistently  favored  with 
the  company  of  his  former  classmate  Brett,  who  did  not 
allow  the  presence  of  the  young  visitor  from  the  West 
to  deter  him  from  haunting  the  vicinity  of  Vaucluse. 
When  the  two  young  men  were  together,  the  keenest 
observer  would  have  failed  to  detect  any  difference 
in  their  treatment  on  the  part  of  the  imperious  young 
mistress  of  the  house.  And  yet  even  the  casual  visitor 
at  the  house,  during  such  times,  would  have  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  surmising  that  there  existed  even  thus  early  in 
the  game,  a  thinly  concealed  rivalry  between  the  two 
budding  warriors.  It  might  be  added,  too,  that  it  needed 
only  a  slight  display  of  coquetry  on  the  part  of  a  cer- 
tain most  attractive  bit  of  femininity,  to  fan  this  hith- 
erto good-natured  rivalry,  into  flames  of  jealousy. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  TRIP  TO  SQUIRREL  ISLAND 

THE  days  that  followed  Burton's  arrival  at  Vaucluse 
passed  all  too  quickly  to  suit  this  neophyte  in  luxurious 
living.  With  rides  in  company  with  his  hostess  and  Julia 
Carter — in  which  they  were  nearly  always  joined  by  Carl 
Brett — interspersed  with  an  occasional  hunting  party 
and  attendance  upon  numerous  neighborhood  functions, 
the  hour  of  departure  was  now  uncomfortably 
close  at  hand.  But  with  all  the  many  affairs  that  had 
been  prepared  for  the  diversion  of  the  guests  of  the 
household,  Burton  had  every  day  found  time  for  an 
hour's  chat  with  Judge  Custis,  for  whom  he  had  formed 
a  strong  liking.  With  Mrs.  Custis  he  had  found  it 
difficult  to  get  acquainted.  Whether  it  was  her  natural 
reserve,  or  an  unwillingness  to  accept  him  on  the  same 
plane  of  friendly  equality  that  had  characterized  the 
intercourse  of  her  husband  and  daughter  with  the  vis- 
itor from  the  West,  it  nevertheless  was  true  that  Burton 
never  felt  at  home  in  her  presence.  But  the  marked  cor- 
diality and  friendliness  of  Sallie  Custis  more  than  com- 
pensated for  any  shortcomings  on  the  part  of  her 
mother. 

"Is  Cadet  Burton  ready  to  volunteer  for  extra 

59 


60  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

hazardous  duty  to-day?"  The  words,  uttered  in  the 
soft,  half-caressing  tones  of  a  typical  daughter  of  the 
Old  Dominion,  found  a  prompt  response  in  the  person 
of  the  budding  warrior  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

The  midday  meal  had  been  over  for  an  hour  or  more, 
and  after  a  smoke  with  Judge  Custis,  the  latter  had  left 
his  visitor  to  himself  while  he  returned  to  his  study  to 
prepare  some  legal  opinions  which  had  awaited  his  at- 
tention for  some  time  past.  Burton,  left  to  his  own 
resources,  had  quickly  betaken  himself  to  his  favorite 
haunt,  a  seat  on  the  promontory,  situated  some  distance 
from  the  house  and  which  overlooked  the  waters  of  the 
"Bay."  Here  he  was  wont  to  indulge  in  cigars  and  day 
dreams,  in  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  Sallie  Custis, 
clothed  in  semi-celestial  garments,  nearly  always  ap- 
peared as  the  central  figure. 

At  such  times  imagination  and  curling  smoke  ran  riot 
and  the  future  held  for  him  possibilities  which  in  his 
saner  moments  he  would  never  dare  to  evoke.  While 
engaged,  in  the  manner  of  youths,  in  painting  a  mental 
picture  of  himself  clothed  in  a  gorgeous  uniform, 
rescuing  in  his  arms  a  beautiful  form  from  a  peculiarly 
dangerous  band  of  brigands,  whose  leader  somehow 
closely  resembled  his  classmate,  Carl  Brett,  he  was  sud- 
denly brought  to  life  by  hearing  the  question  of  his  fair 
hostess,  who  had  succeeded — girl  though  she  was — in 
stealing  a  march  upon  him,  in  broad  daylight.  Under 
such  circumstances  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  sur- 
render, and  so  the  garrison  surrendered  unconditionally. 

"Miss  Sallie,  any  duty,  no  matter  how  prosaic  its 
nature,  would  be  extra-hazardous  with  you  as  the  one  in 


THE  TRIP  TO  SQUIRREL  ISLAND  61 

charge.  But  in  the  present  campaign  I  am  enlisted  for 
the  war.  Lead  on,  and  I  will  follow." 

"Now,  Mr.  Burton,  that  is  a  very  pretty  speech,  but 
it  don't  sound  a  bit  like  you.  Is  this  all  that  West 
Point  has  done  for  you,  changed  you  from  a  man  of 
deeds  to  one  of  words?  I  have  half  a  mind  not  to  ask 
you  at  all." 

Here,  seeing  the  look  of  serious  alarm  on  her  com- 
panion's face,  she  relented,  and  said:  "But  I  will  give 
you  your  chance  and  if  you  fail  me,  you  will  never  be 
asked  to  go  with  me  again.  I  want  you  to  get  a  boat 
and  row  me  over  to  that  Island  which  you  see  yonder. 
There  is  an  old  colored  woman  sick  over  there — my  old 
darky  mammy — and  I  want  to  take  some  medicine  and 
delicacies  over  to  her.  Of  course,  knowing  that  you 
don't  belong  to  the  navy,  I  have  some  well-grounded 
fears  that  you  may  upset  us  both.  On  the  whole,  I  pre- 
fer to  get  back  alive.  So  you  see  now  why  I  call  the 
duty  extra-hazardous." 

A  look  of  relief  came  over  Burton's  face  as  he  as- 
sured her,  that  although  he  belonged  to  the  army  and 
not  the  navy,  in  his  own  estimation  at  least,  he  consid- 
ered himself  fully  qualified  to  command  a  squadron,  to 
say  nothing  of  managing  a  rowboat.  So  a  few  minutes 
later  found  the  two  of  them  on  their  way  across  the 
three-mile  stretch  that  separated  the  Custis  plantation 
from  Squirrel  Island.  For  a  few  moments  little  was 
said  by  either  one  of  the  occupants  of  the  boat.  The 
oarsman  was  fully  occupied  in  getting  a  stroke  and 
landmark  that  suited  him,  while  the  fair  passenger 
seemed  intent  on  the  landscape.  But  the  silence,  so  far 


62  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

v 

at>  the  girl  was  concerned,  was  of  that  deceptive  sort 
which  invariably  precedes  an  attack  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  Suddenly  there  came  this  whimsical  query : 

"Mr.  Burton,  are  you  planning  to  kill  many  people 
after  you  get  through  learning  how  to  do  it  properly  at 
the  Academy?" 

An  amused  expression  passed  over  the  grim  face  of 
the  warrior  of  twenty,  as  he  replied,  with  a  reflective 
tone  in  his  voice:  "Yes,  I  already  have  a  considerable 
number  of  persons  marked  for  slaughter  sooner  or 
later." 

"And  who  are  they,  may  I  ask?"  A  pair  of  teasing 
brown  eyes  were  now  gazing  expectantly  at  him. 

"Well,  there  is  a  Professor  at  the  Academy,  who  has 
so  little  appreciation  of  my  extraordinary  mental  gifts 
as  to  give  me  a  zero  in  recitation  nearly  every  time  I 
recite,  and  then  marks  me  'absent'  besides.  I  have  put 
him  down  for  slaughter,  for  one." 

"And  who  else?" 

"Well,  if  Carl  Brett  don't  stop  coming  over  with  such 
extraordinary  regularity  to  your  house  during  my  visit 
here,  and  cease  attempting  to  monopolize  your  time,  I 
think  I  shall  also  add  his  name  to  the  list." 

A  faint  tinge  of  color  appeared  now  for  the  first  time 
on  the  fair  cheeks  of  the  young  Virginia  girl,  and  she 
made  haste  to  turn  the  conversation  into  another 
channel. 

"Now,  Mr.  Burton,  you  know  Mr.  Brett  is  a  neigh- 
bor of  ours,  and  I  have  asked  him  to  help  me  entertain 
Julia  and  you  while  you  are  here.  So,  for  hospitality's 
sake,  if  for  no  other  reason,  I  ask  you  to  spare  his  life. 


THE  TRIP  TO  SQUIRREL  ISLAND  63 

But,  seriously,  I  heard  one  of  my  father's  guests 
prophesy  not  long  ago  that  some  day  there  will  come  a 
war  between  the  North  and  the  South.  I  don't  myself 
believe  there  will,  Mr.  Burton, — but  if  there  should, 
would  you  fight  against  us?" 

There  was  beneath  all  this  raillery  just  enough  seri- 
ousness to  put  Burton  on  his  guard  as  to  how  to  answer. 
So  when  he  did  reply,  his  words  were  couched  in  most 
diplomatic  language. 

"A  soldier,  Miss  Sallie,  must  always  obey  orders.  If 
my  superior  orders  me  to  attack  Vaucluse,  I  should  have 
to  do  it.  But  I  can  assure  you  that  I  should  endeavor 
while  doing  so,  not  to  kill,  but  to  capture  its  inmates 
alive." 

The  expression  on  the  speaker's  face  at  that  moment 
was  so  militant,  as  to  cause  the  fair  commander-in-chief 
of  the  expedition  to  inform  him,  in  her  most  severe  tone, 
that  she  hoped  it  would  never  become  necessary  for  him 
to  undertake  such  an  obviously  hopeless  campaign. 

By  this  time  the  island  was  reached,  and  they  landed 
on  its  low-lying  shore,  close  to  the  cottage  where  resided 
the  dusky  patient,  whose  necessities  had  brought  them 
to  the  island.  It  was  interesting  indeed  to  the  northern- 
bred  youth  to  see  the  kindliness  and  friendliness  of  the 
young  southern  girl  toward  this  humble  colored 
"mammy"  who  had  been  a  nurse  in  her  father's  family 
when  she  was  a  child.  In  every  way  that  he  could  Bur- 
ton assisted  her  in  her  efforts  to  minister  to  the  wants 
of  her  dusky  retainer.  When  all  had  been  done  that 
could  be  done  for  the  comfort  of  the  patient,  they  bade 
her  good-by  and  started  on  their  homeward  journey. 


64  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

There  was  little  said  on  the  trip  back.  It  was  at  the 
sunset  hour,  and  neither  seemed  to  be  in  a  talkative 
mood.  The  light  mood  of  the  hour  before  had  vanished 
and  they  felt  the  unspoken  influence  of  their  surround- 
ings, which  was  such  as  to  throw  around  them  the  spell 
of  its  softening  presence.  The  blue  sky,  the  glorious 
tints  of  the  setting  sun  in  the  west  and  the  purple-hued 
waters  of  the  bay,  all  conspired  to  form  a  scene  never 
to  be  forgotten.  It  was  one  of  those  wondrous  paint- 
ings of  nature — a  Chesapeake  sunset.  With  the  slow 
passing  of  the  daylight,  there  came  those  tender 
thoughts  which  seldom  find  utterance  in  words.  They 
felt  that  this  beautiful  evening  sunset  was  for  them. 
Already  the  stillness  of  a  darkening  June  twilight  had 
settled  over  the  landscape. 

In  the  east  from  out  the  purple  dusk  a  full  moon  was 
rising.  A  soft  breeze  had  sprung  up  and  was  driving 
them  gently  toward  their  destination. 

A  smile  hovered  around  her  delicate  lips.  Her  bril- 
liant hazel  eyes  looked  out  from  under  long  lashes.  Her 
costume  accentuated  all  the  pliant  graces  of  her  figure. 
Together  here  to-night  they  seemed  shut  off  from  all 
the  rest  of  the  world.  Manlike,  he  would  have  given  a 
great  deal  to  have  known  just  what  her  thoughts  were 
at  this  moment.  For  his  own  part,  he  would  have  gladly 
prolonged  the  voyage  indefinitely,  but  she  would  not 
have  it  thus.  "We  must  hasten  home,"  she  said,  and  the 
tone  was  such  that  he  obeyed  with  soldierly  promptness. 
A  few  moments  later  the  boat  touched  the  landing  dock 
at  Vaucluse,  and  the  voyage  to  Squirrel  Island  was 
a  thing  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEARING  THE  GOAL 

THE  two  months'  furlough  came  to  an  end  only  too 
quickly,  and  it  was  with  regret  that  Burton  returned  to 
take  up  once  more  the  life  at  the  Academy.  Once  ar- 
rived there,  a  new  and  pleasant  surprise  was  awaiting 
him.  He  learned  that  cavalry  drill  was  to  be  introduced 
for  the  first  time  at  the  institution.  From  the  very  first 
he  easily  took  high  rank  in  that  line  of  duty.  Brett 
alone,  among  all  his  classmates,  had  the  right  to  dispute 
with  him  for  supremacy  in  horsemanship.  They  were 
both,  indeed,  masters  of  the  art.  There  was  nothing  at 
the  Academy  that  they  could  not  ride.  Both  mounted, 
stood  and  jumped  a  horse  with  singular  ease  and  gract. 
Nowhere  were  they  to  be  seen  to  better  advantage  than 
when  mounted  and  speeding  at  a  full  gallop  across  the 
drill  ground.  To  them  was  allotted  the  task  of  breaking 
some  of  the  most  unmanageable  horses  that  had  ever 
been  sold  to  an  unsuspecting  and  long-suffering  govern- 
ment. They  could  perform  more  feats  on  horseback 
than  any  other  men  in  the  entire  corps,  and  were 
destined  to  make  a  record  in  that  line  which  would  in 
after-years  become  one  of  the  traditions  of  the 
Academy. 

65 


66 

Burton  grew  rapidly  during  his  last  two  years  at 
the  Point.  He  had  encountered  another  world,  which 
had  brought  with  it  new  thoughts  and  aspirations.  He 
felt  within  him  the  presence  of  a  reserve  power,  of  ambi- 
tion and  of  vague  longings  that  he  hardly  dared  ac- 
knowledge to  himself.  From  the  start  he  had  become 
popular  with  both  classmates  and  teachers,  who  recog- 
nized his  purity  of  mind,  amiability  of  character  and 
modesty  of  demeanor.  In  his  studies  he  was  fair,  but 
not  brilliant.  There  was  just  sufficient  strain  of  indo- 
lence to  prevent  serious  application  to  studies.  Still,  he 
had  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  see  things  easily 
when  they  interested  him.  Only  in  horsemanship  and 
mathematics  did  he  excel.  In  short,  during  his  career 
at  the  Academy  he  acquired  the  reputation  of  one  who 
could  accomplish  whatever  he  set  out  to  do,  easily,  and 
could  learn  anything  to  which  he  cared  to  apply  himself. 

The  years  were  busy  ones,  all  full  of  hard  work  and 
accompanied  by  many  trials  and  but  few  triumphs.  The 
experience  of  these  days  brought  out  in  the  most  strik- 
ing manner  the  strength,  as  well  as  the  weakness,  of  the 
cadet  life  at  the  institution.  The  Academy  is  no  place 
for  a  weakling,  the  cad  or  the  shirk.  Here,  if  no  place 
else,  weakness  and  shiftlessness  are  looked  upon  with 
wholesome  detestation.  There  is  an  earnestness  and 
prophetic  seriousness  about  the  life  of  the  institution 
not  found  in  any  other  school  in  the  land.  Early  in  the 
race,  the  triflers,  the  drones,  the  stupid,  and  the  vicious 
are  sifted  out,  and  only  those  fit  to  assume  the  duties  to 
which  the  nation  has  called  them  survive  the  ordeal.  The 
cosmopolitan  system  which  governs  in  the  choice  of 


NEARING  THE  GOAL  67 

cadets,  the  perfect  democracy  of  the  life  in  the  institu- 
tion, and  the  system  of  instruction  there  in  vogue  all 
tend  to  this  end.  The  grade  of  good  fellowship  at  the 
Academy  is  fixed  by  the  unwritten  laws  of  honor  and 
charity,  and  all  that  is  contained  in  the  word  manliness. 
It  is  the  fearless  and  the  self-sacrificing  who  become 
the  leaders. 

Soon  the  third  year  slipped  into  the  fourth  and  found 
the  class  of  '43  nearing  the  *';.ie  of  their  graduation. 
One  evening  toward  the  close  of  his  four  years  at  the 
Academy  Burton  and  his  roommate,  "Babe"  Candee,  sat 
chatting  together  in  their  room  in  the  barracks.  They 
were  doing  what  others  under  such  circumstances  had 
often  done  before,  and  will  continue  to  do  for  all  future 
times.  That  is,  they  were  reviewing  in  school-boy  fash- 
ion the  four  years  of  their  student  life  now  so  near  com- 
pletion and  speculating  upon  what  the  future  held  in 
store  for  them  and  for  their  classmates. 

"Babe,"  said  Burton,  "did  you  expect  when  you  en- 
tered the  Point  that  you  would  ever  graduate?" 

"Why  of  course  I  did,  Sam;  didn't  you?" 

"Well,  I  had  grave  doubts  on  the  subject.  You  see, 
I  had  never  really  any  chance  to  see  what  I  could  do 
until  I  came  here.  Then,  at  the  start  it  seemed  as 
though  every  one  had  so  much  better  preparation  than 
I,  and  it  seemed,  too,  that,  if  any  one  should  be  dropped 
from  the  class,  I  would  be  the  one.  But  one  day  I  heard 
'Nat'  Lyon  of  the  class  of  '41  say  to  Pat  Calhoun  that 
there  were  only  a  few  men  of  real  genius  in  the  corps 
and  these  would  never  be  discovered  until  long  after 
their  graduation.  Up  to  that  time  I  heard  so  much  of 


68  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

the  brilliancy  of  this  and  that  man  that  I  felt  certain 
that  I  was  foolish  to  try  and  keep  in  such  company.  I 
know  I  can  never  be  a  leader  for  the  'fives'  like 
'Dragon'  Arnaux,  or  'Frank,'  or  yourself,  but  per- 
haps I  can  succeed  in  making  a  fair  company  officer  of 
myself  yet." 

"Of  course  you  can,"  replied  the  ever  sanguine  Can- 
dee.  "You  can  never  tell  about  these  things  until  the 
occasion  arises.  Our  class  is  certainly  not  an  uncommon 
one,  but  I  believe  that  there  are  some  men  in  it  that  will 
make  a  good,  if  not  a  brilliant  record.  All  they  need  is 
the  opportunity.  The  most  gifted  cadets  are  worth 
nothing  without  this.  Let  war  come  and  there  will  cer- 
tainly be  few  of  our  class  who  will  not  be  able  to  give  a 
good  account  of  himself.  None  of  us  will,  perhaps, 
stand  in  General  Scott's  place,  but  most  of  us  will  fight 
sooner  than  run  away." 

The  near  approach  of  June  found  the  members  of  the 
graduating  class  of  1843  busy  with  preparations,  for 
this,  to  them,  was  a  momentous  occasion.  The  prospect 
of  being  free  from  the  duties  of  the  Academy,  coupled 
with  the  prospect  of  seeing  near  relatives  and  friends, 
to  say  nothing  of  sweethearts,  served  to  throw  the 
future  generalissimos  of  the  class  of  1843  into  a  state 
bordering  on  mental  aberration.  Liberal  inducements 
were  offered  for  the  presence  of  youthful  and  charming 
relations  of  the  feminine  order.  Fortunate  indeed  was 
the  cadet  whose  circumstances  or  proximity  of  residence 
permitted  the  presence  of  relatives  at  his  graduation. 

The  program  for  the  week's  festivities  was  all  that 
could  be  desired.  During  the  months  that  preceded  the 


N  EARING  THE  GOAL  69 

closing  event  of  the  school  year  each  cadet  was  full  of 
pleasurable  anticipation — that  is,  such  cadets  as 
were  fortunate  enough  to  be  expecting  friends  and  rela- 
tives for  the  occasion.  As  for  Burton,  believing  that  he 
was  not  to  be  numbered  among  those  who  were  fortunate 
enough  to  expect  friends  at  such  a  time,  he  was  affected 
by  a  sense  of  loneliness  that  was  new  to  him.  That  his 
parents  could  not  come  on  to  his  graduation  was  a  fore- 
gone conclusion.  For  their  straitened  circumstances 
would  not  permit  of  what  was,  for  that  day,  a  long  and 
expensive  journey.  Yet,  boylike,  he  yearned  in  his 
heart  to  have  present  on  this  great  occasion  some  one 
who  would  be  there  solely  on  his  account. 

He  longed  to  share  with  relatives  and  friends  his  own 
creditable  pleasure  at  the  consciousness  of  having 
attained  the  difficult  goal  toward  which  he  had  set 
his  face  so  resolutely  and  under  such  peculiarly  discour- 
aging circumstances  four  years  before. 

Burton  was  rapidly  growing  into  a  chronic  state  of 
blues,  when  he  received  a  letter  from  his  uncle  in  Ken- 
tucky containing  some  news  of  the  most  surprising 
nature.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  he  and  Julia  would  be 
in  attendance  at  West  Point  during  the  coming  Com- 
mencement. To  this  was  added  the  unexpected  an- 
nouncement that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brett  were  to  be  there, 
in  company  with  Sallie  Custis.  Knowing  that  his  own 
parents  were  too  poor  to  make  this  trip  eastward,  much 
as  they  would  have  been  pleased  to  do  so,  he  had  not 
been  able  to  prevent,  as  the  days  went  by,  frequent 
heart  burnings  when  he  heard  so  many  of  his  classmates 
planning  for  the  entertainment  of  their  relatives  and 


70  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

friends.  For  days  before  the  receipt  of  his  uncle's  let- 
ter he  felt  blue  and  homesick  over  it  all,  and  almost 
wished  that  he  could  escape  graduation  entirely.  And 
now  he  was  to  have  his  relatives  with  him,  like  the  rest, 
and  the  one  whose  presence  would  give  him  more  pleas- 
ure than  any  one  else,  was  to  be  there  as  well.  It  all 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 

And  so  he  commenced,  boylike,  to  count  the  days, 
even  the  hours,  that  must  elapse  before  his  uncle  and 
cousin  should  arrive.  Secretly  he  had  cherished  in  his 
own  heart  ever  since  their  first  meeting,  more  than  four 
years  before,  the  memory  of  this  young  Virginia  girl 
who  had  befriended  him  in  his  hour  of  need.  The  boyish 
adoration  of  four  years  before  had  been  carefully  nour- 
ished until  it  became  the  strongest  influence  of  his  life. 
He  had  lived  all  this  time,  as  it  were,  in  the  hope  of 
having  her  some  day  know  that  he  had  passed  success- 
fully through  his  course  at  West  Point,  and  that,  too, 
largely  because  she  had  believed  in  him. 

Not  long  after,  while  rapidly  crossing  the  parade 
ground  on  an  errand  for  one  of  the  officers,  one  day  late 
in  May,  he  caught  sight  of  Cadet  Brett  coming  slowly 
toward  him,  escorting  a  charmingly  dressed  girl,  whose 
figure  and  walk  seemed  strangely  familiar  to  him.  As 
they  approached,  the  blood  surged  in  his  heart  and  his 
face  flushed  crimson  as  he  recognized  in  Brett's  com- 
panion none  other  than  Sallie  Custis  herself.  But  how 
changed,  and  for  the  better.  The  girlish  figure  had 
developed  into  that  of  a  more  mature  woman,  the  face 
was  strangely  beautiful  and  her  manner  was  attractive 
in  the  extreme. 


NEARING  THE  GOAL  7 1 

As  the  pair  approached,  he  saw  that  he  was  recog- 
nized, and  at  the  same  time  was  pleased  to  note  the  smile 
of  unfeigned  pleasure  that  appeared  on  the  girl's  face 
as  he  approached  and  clasped  the  hand  that  was  ex- 
tended to  him  in  friendly  greeting.  In  its  gentle  pres- 
sure, as  it  lay  in  his  own,  he  was  told  better  than  mere 
words  could  do  that  she  was  glad  to  meet  him  once  more. 
"Why,  Miss  Sallie,  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you."  These  words  provoked  a  smile  of  amusement  from 
Brett,  as  well  as  the  suggestion  that  if  Burton  was 
unable  to  express  his  feelings  in  words,  he  might  with- 
draw and  commit  them  to  paper.  But  to  all  this  Sallie 
Custis  paid  little  attention. 

For  a  moment  she  glanced  at  the  attractive  face  and 
handsome  figure  of  the  well-dressed  cadet  before  her  as 
if  somewhat  in  doubt  as  to  bis  i.dentity,  and  then,  with 
just  a  touch  of  coquetry,  exclaimed:  "You  seem  to  be 
in  a  hurry,  Mr.  Burton  ?" 

"Well,  if  I  was,  the  attack  is  well  over  now,"  he 
replied,  laughingly. 

There  was  no  disputing  the  gladness  of  her  tone  or 
the  warmth  of  her  welcome  toward  the  newcomer. 
This  was  noted  mentally  by  the  handsome  Southerner  at 
her  side.  Burton,  without  perhaps  fully  consulting  the 
wishes  of  his  classmate,  accompanied  them  as  far  as  the 
hotel,  answering  Miss  Custis'  questions  as  to  himself 
and  the  time  of  the  probable  arrival  of  his  cousin,  and 
then,  with  her  request  to  call  soon,  ringing  in  his  ears, 
he  made  his  adieu.  The  next  day  Burton  made  good  his 
promise,  and  spent  a  most  delightful  afternoon  with  her 


72 

walking  over  the  Academy  grounds  and  exploring  the 
many  points  of  interest  round  about. 

And  what  an  hour  that  was,  spent  alone  with  the  girl 
of  his  dreams,  wandering  along  the  mazes  of  Flirtation 
Path,  sitting  on  the  rocks  of  the  Point  from  which  the 
Academy  takes  its  name,  and  even  going  as  far  as  to 
wander  off  to  the  somber  precincts  of  the  cemetery, 
whose  grounds  immediately  adj  oined  those  of  the  Acad- 
emy. Indeed,  in  his  present  cheerful  frame  of  mind, 
even  tombstones  had  an  air  of  cheerfulness  when 
gazed  at  in  company  with  a  certain  daughter  of  the  Old 
Dominion.  At  such  times  their  conversation  was  of 
that  frankly  introspective  nature  so  attractive  to  the 
youths  and  maidens  who  are  endeavoring  to  crowd  the 
acquaintance  of  a  lifetime  into  the  confidences  of  a  few 
brief  days.  Then,  exercising  the  prerogative  of  a  first 
classman,  he  took  her  out  rowing  on  the  river.  Here 
they  had  an  opportunity  to  visit  undisturbed.  She,  on 
her  part,  wanted  to  know  all  that  had  happened  to  him 
since  they  parted  more  than  two  years  before  at  Vau- 
cluse. 

"How  did  you  ever  succeed  in  doing  so  much,  Mr. 
Burton  ?"  was  her  inquiry  when,  for  the  first  time,  they 
found  themselves  alone.  Then,  in  his  simple,  yet  fasci- 
nating way,  he  told  her  the  story  of  it  all.  She  listened 
with  unfeigned  interest  to  his  tale,  and  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, exclaimed,  impulsively,  "That  is  just  splendid, 
Mr.  Burton.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  proud  I  am  of 
you." 

And  so  they  talked,  each  almost  unconsciously  allow- 
ing the  other  to  see  the  real  self  as  they  had  never  done 


NEARING  THE  GOAL  73 

before.  Two  lives,  which  had  touched  each  other  so 
lightly  four  years  ago,  now  bid  fair  to  come  so  close 
together  that  they  must,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent, 
depend  one  on  the  other.  It  is  a  most  mysterious  proc- 
ess, this  unfolding  of  the  secrets  of  the  heart  and  the 
holiest  emotions  of  the  soul  to  one  not  bound  to  us  by 
kith  or  kin. 

As  for  Mr.  Carter,  he  became,  from  the  first  moment 
of  his  arrival,  one  of  the  boys.  He  soon  knew  by  name 
most  of  the  graduating  class,  and  had  become  fast 
friends  with  not  a  few  of  them.  From  the  outset  he  had 
displayed  great  curiosity  as  to  the  location  of  a  certain 
resort  known  as  "Benny  Havens',"  and  claimed  to  ex- 
perience great  surprise  that  none  of  the  cadets  had  ever 
heard  of  it.  He  was  a  royal  entertainer  and  during 
recreation  hours  was  pretty  sure  to  be  found  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  idle  cadets,  whom  he  was 
entertaining  by  tales  of  a  highly  interesting  character. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell  whether  Mr. 
Carter  took  more  pride  in  his  nephew  than  the  latter 
did  in  him.  They  were  constantly  together,  so  far  as 
Burton's  duties  would  permit.  When  together  they  ap- 
peared more  like  two  boys  than  as  uncle  and  nephew. 
As  for  Julia  Carter,  she  never  found  Sam  Burton  half 
so  useful,  as  she  did  during  those  commencement  days, 
when  her  cousin  found  himself  pestered  in  unexpected 
quarters  by  requests  for  an  introduction  to  that  "stun- 
ning" Miss  Carter. 

"Sam,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  one  day  when,  in  company 
with  Julia  Carter  and  Sallie  Custis,  they  were  investi- 
gating, under  the  guidance  of  Burton,  some  of  the  de- 


74  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

lightful  walks  with  which  the  "Point"  abounds,  "what 
is  this  I  hear  about  you  and  Brett  trying  to  find  which 
is  the  better  man  at  the  cavalry  drill,  to  be  given  before 
the  Board  of  Visitors  on  Commencement  day  ?" 

Burton  colored,  as  he  saw  the  eyes  of  all  his  com- 
panions on  him,  and  then  answered  in  his  characteristic 
modest  fashion. 

"Oh,  that  is  just  talk.  The  northern  cadets  in  our 
class  seem  to  think  that  I  am  a  pretty  fair  rider,  and 
they  want  me  to  beat  Brett,  who  is  an  uncommonly  fine 
horseman,  in  the  hurdling  next  week.  The  special 
event  of  that  occasion  will  be  the  jumping  test,  he  being 
mounted  on  Midnight,  a  particularly  fine  Kentucky 
horse,  while  I  am  to  ride  a  vicious  sorrel,  named  York." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "judging  from  the  reports 
I  have  heard,  it  is  going  to  be  the  greatest  affair  of  the 
week,  not  excepting  the  graduation  ball  which  the 
girls  are  talking  about.  Well,  Sam,  I  want  you  to  do 
credit  to  the  family  and,  of  course,  come  out  ahead.  I 
have  no  particular  grudge  against  Mr.  Brett,  but  I  do 
feel  as  though,  for  family  and  other  reasons,  you  ought 
to  win  in  such  a  contest.  Don't  you  think  so,  Sallie?" 
said  Mr.  Carter,  in  a  bantering  tone. 

Without  looking  at  Burton,  she  said,  in  answer  to  the 
question :  "All  I  can  say  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Carter,  is 
this :  'May  the  best  man  win.'  " 


CHAPTER   X 

A  WEST   POINT  ILIAD 

AND  now  had  come,  for  the  class  of  '43,  the  great 
event  of  Commencement  week,  the  exhibition  at  the  old 
Riding  Academy,  where  the  cadets  of  the  graduating 
class  were  accustomed  to  settle  finally  the  question  of 
individual  supremacy  in  the  art  of  horsemanship.  All 
other  rivalries  had  long  since  been  decided.  This  alone 
remained.  The  strife  to  secure  appointments  as  cadet 
officers,  the  race  for  class  standing  or  for  "fives,"  as  it 
was  called,  were  over.  All  other  momentous  problems 
such  as  are  wont  to  agitate  the  student  world,  had  been 
definitely  settled,  save  this  one :  who  was  the  first  horse- 
man in  the  class  of  '43?  In  so  far  as  hurdling  was  con- 
cerned, it  might  be  said  that  the  contest  to  be  held 
would  settle  the  question  of  supremacy  in  that  regard 
for  many  years  to  come.  This  for  the  reason  that  a 
record  was  to  be  made  this  day  that  had  never  been 
equaled  by  preceding  classes,  and  was  destined  not  to 
be  surpassed  by  any  rider  until  a  new  generation  of 
cadets  had  come  and  gone. 

Of  the  entire  class  of  '43,  it  might  be  said  that,  while 
in  scholarship  they  ranked  considerably  below  the  other 
classes  that  had  preceded  them,  none  ranked  higher  as  a 

75 


76  !THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

body  in  horsemanship.  During  the  two  weeks  that  im- 
mediately preceded  the  date  of  the  riding  contest,  the 
spirit  of  rivalry  between  the  various  members  of  the 
class  of  '43  had  grown  apace.  In  the  barracks,  at  meal 
time  and  during  recreation  hours,  the  one  never-failing 
subject  of  discussion  was  the  one  which  related  to  the 
approaching  contest.  While  here  and  there  other 
favorites  might  be  mentioned,  it  was  generally  admitted 
that*  when  the  final  contest  should  come,  the  victory 
would  certainly  lie  between  two  contestants — one  a  rep- 
resentative of  the  South,  and  the  other  of  the  North. 
These  two  were  cadets  Brett  of  Virginia  and  Burton  of 
Ohio.  They  had  each  been  in  many  contests  before  in 
the  old  riding  hall,  but  it  was  well  understood  that 
neither  of  the  two  cadets  had  exerted  himself  at  such 
times  to  the  utmost,  each  being  satisfied  for  the  present 
with  his  admitted  superiority  over  the  greater  number 
of  his  classmates,  and  each  preferring  to  leave  the  ques- 
tion unsettled  until  Commencement  week.  Then,  in  the 
presence  of  classmates,  friends  and  a  great  body  of  vis- 
itors, they  were  willing  that  the  contest  should  be  had 
and  the  question  of  supremacy  settled. 

And  now  the  great  occasion  had  arrived.  The  con- 
testants could  scarcely  have  asked  for  a  more  distin- 
guished audience.  There  were  present  the  Secretary  of 
War,  Senators  and  Representatives  in  Congress,  and 
many  other  leading  men  of  the  nation.  General  Win- 
field  Scott,  the  hero  of  Lundy's  Lane,  was  there,  re- 
splendent in  gold  lace  and  gorgeous  uniform.  Then, 
what  meant  more  than  all  to  the  contestants,  was  the 
presence  of  relations,  friends  and  sweethearts.  The  old 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  77 

riding  academy  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  leaving 
hardly  enough  room  for  the  contestants  themselves. 
Among  the  visitors  was,  of  course,  Thomas  Carter, 
accompanied  by  his  daughter  Julia  and  by  Sallie  Custis. 
The  latter  was  looking  most  charming  that  afternoon 
in  the  daintiest  of  white  mull,  chosen  especially  for  the 
occasion.  She  wore  a  large  bunch  of  violets.  She  was 
carried  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  more 
than  she  would  have  cared  to  acknowledge,  and  watched 
each  of  the  cadets  with  rapt  attention.  When  the  class, 
all  mounted,  came  forth,  she  scanned  each  rider  closely 
in  an  endeavor  to  estimate  his  chances  of  success. 

The  two  riders  who  naturally  received  most  of  her 
attention  were  cadets  Brett  and  Burton.  The  former 
rode  "Midnight,"  certainly  the  most  showy  mount  pos- 
sessed by  any  of  the  cadets.  The  latter  was  a  coal  black 
Kentucky  thoroughbred,  peculiarly  striking  in  appear- 
ance. He  possessed  a  nervous,  fiery  temperament  which 
caused  him  to  jump  and  cavort  in  a  manner  which  gave 
his  rider  little  time  for  aught  else  than  to  hold  in  con- 
trol the  unruly  tendencies  of  the  fractious  beast. 

Burton,  on  the  other  hand,  rode  "York,"  a  strong- 
limbed  yet  vicious  sorrel,  possessed,  apparently,  of 
neither  pedigree  or  speed.  Yet,  a  good  judge  of  horses 
might  have  detected  in  the  long  back,  strong  haunches, 
long  thin  legs,  narrow  forehead  and  small  feet  of  the 
steed,  latent  qualities  which  could  be  brought  to  the  sur- 
face by  a  rider  who  knew  how  to  bring  them  out. 

It  gave  Sallie  Custis  a  peculiar  feeling  to  see,  from 
out  the  rushing  mass  of  horsemen,  the  calm  imperturba- 
ble face  of  her  old-time  riding  companion  at  Maysville, 


78  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

and  her  blood  seemed  to  surge  suddenly  to  her  face. 
There  he  was,  but  not  the  same  awkward  youth  she  had 
met  four  years  ago.  The  trim,  tight -fitting  uniform 
that  he  wore  indicated  the  strength  and  litheness  of  the 
figure  beneath.  As  he  brought  his  horse  forward  into 
the  position  assigned  to  him,  under  control  so  perfect  as 
to  indicate  what  he  would  be  able  to  do  when  the  real  test 
should  come  later  on,  Sallie  Custis'  heart  filled  with 
admiration  for  this,  "her  cadet,"  as  she  called  him.  He 
did  not  glance  up  toward  the  gallery  where  she  sat,  as 
did  Brett,  who  entered  a  moment  later,  for  he  seemed  to 
have  thoughts  that  day  for  his  horse  alone.  As  for 
Sallie  Custis,  she  forgot  for  a  moment  the  scene  around 
her,  in  the  rush  of  memory  toward  those  days  in  Ken- 
tucky when  he,  as  a  friendless  country  lad,  was  her 
devoted  cavalier.  In  a  sense,  she  had  discovered  him, 
and  no  one  was  prouder  of  that  fact  at  this  moment 
than  herself.  As  for  Brett,  he  was  the  very  picture  of 
nonchalance.  Throwing  his  leg  over  the  horn  of  his 
saddle,  he  sat  gazing  up  at  her  and  waving  his  hand  in 
buoyant  recognition.  But  now  the  test  was  to  begin. 

First  came  the  more  simple  exercises,  including  exhi- 
bitions of  special  feats  of  horsemanship,  such  as  mount- 
ing and  dismounting,  while  running  the  horse  at  full 
speed,  picking  *up  objects  from  the  ground  under  such 
conditions,  and  all  manner  of  spectacular  tricks  well 
known  to  the  cadets  at  West  Point.  All  this  gave  the 
spectators  opportunity  to  inspect  the  contestants  indi- 
vidually and  to  reward  their  individual  powers  with  well- 
merited  applause.  They  were  truly  a  most  attractive 
and  interesting  body  of  embryo  soldiers.  There  was  the 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  79 

delicate  Candee,  whose  finely  featured  face  bore  evidence 
of  a  lineage  than  which  there  was  none  better  in  all  the 
republic.  That  youth  yonder  is  the  melancholy  Hazlitt, 
who  was  destined  soon  to  lose  his  life  on  the  waters  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  Yonder  is  the  sallow-faced  Johnston, 
who  was  destined  to  be  the  first  to  fall  in  battle  on  the 
soil  of  Mexico,  in  a  war  not  even  dreamed  of  by  the 
young  soldiers  at  this  time.  Close  to  him  stands  a 
youth  of  exceptionally  fine  build.  That  is  Chadbourne, 
the  Kentuckian,  who  was  soon  to  give  up  his  young  life 
fighting  at  Monterey.  Yonder,  standing  together,  are 
three  cadets  of  more  than  ordinary  ability,  all  of 
Northern  birth,  and  each  of  whom  not  two  decades  later 
will  be  found  wearing  the  stars  of  generals  in  a  confed- 
eracy yet  unborn.  Standing  near  these  are  grouped 
nine  others,  who  in  their  turn  will  equal  and  one,  at 
least,  will  far  surpass  these  last  named,  in  rank  in  the 
armies  of  the  Union. 

But  how  little  of  what  the  future  had  in  store  for 
them  did  these  young  striplings  know.  With  intense 
zest  they  prepared  to  participate  in  the  contest  that 
was  before  them.  Their  interest  did  not  center  so  much 
on  the  display  of  horsemanship,  superb  though  it  ap- 
peared to  the  audience,  as  upon  the  hurdling  contest 
which  was  to  give  the  finishing  touches  to  the  great 
event.  That  was  the  supreme  test,  and  beside  this  all 
else  paled  into  insignificance. 

Old  Herschberger — the  grizzled  riding  master,  worth- 
ily famous  in  his  day  and  generation — had  passed  the 
word  out  that  when  it  came  to  the  hurdling  contest,  the 
cadets  would  have  no  cause  to  complain  that  there  had 


80  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

been  no  opportunity  given  them  to  prove  who  was  the 
master  among  them  in  this  most  exhilarating  of  eques- 
trian sports.  He  had  even  vouchsafed  the  information 
that  in  his  opinion  there  were  men  in  the  corps  who 
could  be  trusted  to  raise  the  Academy  record  a  full  six 
inches,  if  not  more,  before  the  contest  was  over. 

And  now  the  hurdling  contest,  the  most  spectacular 
of  all,  was  announced.  Two  of  the  regulars  were  sta- 
tioned at  the  bars,  and  with  the  latter  fixed  at  three 
feet,  the  signal  was  given  for  the  riders  to  start.  In 
rapid  succession,  each  made  the  leap  without  a  break  in 
their  line.  Then  the  bars  were  raised  six  inches  higher, 
and  at  this  height  nearly  a  dozen  of  the  cadets  failed  in 
their  attempt  to  leap  the  bar.  Then  it  was  raised  to 
four  feet.  This  thinned  the  ranks  of  the  contestants 
down  to  a  bare  dozen.  At  four  feet  and  a  half  all  failed 
save  the  young  Candee,  the  burly  Kentuckian,  Chad- 
bourne,  and  cadets  Brett  and  Burton.  At  four  feet 
nine  Chadbourne  failed,  after  taking  the  leap  at  four 
fee£  and  a  half.  At  four  feet  ten  Candee  went  down  to 
defeat,  but  not  without  a  spirited  round  of  applause 
from  the  spectators  for  his  plucky  effort. 

But  now  all  eyes  centered  upon  the  two  survivors, 
from  whom  the  winner  in  the  great  contest  must  come. 
No  one  could  gaze  upon  the  superb  figure  and  handsome 
face  of  Carl  Grimke  Brett  without  a  feeling  of  admira- 
tion. Tall  and  straight  as  an  arrow,  perfectly  propor- 
tioned, he  looked  the  beau  ideal  of  a  soldier.  Over  his 
forehead  hung  a  heavy  head  of  curly  black  hair,  while 
beneath  lay  piercing  dark  eyes,  an  aquiline  nose  and  a 
face  of  dark  olive  complexion.  It  was  well  said  of  him 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  81 

that  day  that  West  Point  had  never  graduated  a  hand- 
somer cadet. 

But  what  of  his  competitor,  who  ventured  to  contest 
with  him  for  what,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  corps, 
was  the  greatest  prize  to  be  obtained  at  West  Point? 
Cadet  Burton,  of  the  class  of  '48,  was  far  from  being 
the  equal  of  his  opponent  either  in  physique  or  appear- 
ance. Of  medium  height,  sparse  build,  and  with  shoul- 
ders fairly  erect,  he  possessed  but  little  of  that  West 
Point  form  which  had  made  that  institution  so  worth- 
ily famous.  But  his  face,  to  the  few  that  might 
take  the  trouble  to  study  it  closely,  gave  an  insight  into 
the  normal  qualities  that  lay  beneath,  which  well  repaid 
the  effort.  The  forehead,  which  lay  beneath  a  heavy 
head  of  sandy  hair,  was  broad  and  high.  Clear  gray 
eyes  looked  out  from  beneath  heavy  brows.  Under  a 
nose  of  somewhat  large  proportions  were  a  pair  of  firm 
lips  set  between  what  might  well  be  called  "bulldog 
jaws."  It  was  the  physiognomy  of  a  man  of  indom- 
itable power  and  earnest  purpose — one  who  possessed 
a  power  of  will  which  nothing  could  withstand  if  it  were 
but  once  aroused.  And  to-day  it  was  aroused  as  noth- 
ing had  ever  caused  it  to  be  before. 

This  is  the  strangely  contrasting  picture  of  the  two 
youthful  gladiators  who,  with  the  old  riding  academy 
for  an  arena,  were  to  contest  that  day  for  the  suprem- 
acy in  a  field  where  neither  had  yet  been  vanquished. 
One  had  back  of  him  the  pride  of  a  race  and  lineage 
which  belonged  to  the  cavalier  stock  and  the  bluest 
blood  of  the  Old  Dominion.  The  other  had  nothing 
back  of  him  but  a  distant  puritan  ancestry,  and  a  fam- 


82  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

ily  whose  only  dower  had  been  poverty  and  honest  work. 
The  one  had  to  strike  for  victory  that  there  might  come 
to  the  proud  state  of  Virginia  and  to  his  own  beloved 
South  the  laurels  of  victory.  The  other  gave  little 
thought  to  all  this.  But,  above  all  else,  both  sought  for 
success,  that  it  might  prove  a  stepping-stone  toward 
victory  in  another  sphere.  That  it  might  perchance 
win  the  favor  of  a  young  girl  who  was  at  that  moment 
watching  the  contest  from  the  balcony  above  with  bated 
breath.  But  outwardly,  at  least,  the  latter  had  no 
favorite  whose  cause  she  chose  to  champion.  If  in  her 
heart  she  had  a  choice,  there  was  no  one  present  there 
this  day  wise  enough  to  fathom  what  it  was. 

Up  to  this  time  Burton  had  failed  to  cast  a  single 
glance  of  recognition  toward  Sallie  Custis.  Now  for 
the  first  time  he  glanced  in  her  direction  and  their  eyes 
chanced  to  meet.  He  saw  in  hers  such  a  look  of  friend- 
liness, anxiety  and  burning  interest,  that  he  found  him- 
self involuntarily  looking  up  to  her  in  a  manner  which 
brought  a  heightened  color  to  her  cheeks.  For  she,  in 
some  occult  way,  interpreted  his  look  to  mean  that  he 
believed  that  she  wanted  him  to  win,  and  that  if  he  had 
read  her  mind  aright,  she  need  have  no  lack  of  confi- 
dence as  to  the  outcome  of  the  contest. 

A  moment  later  a  whispered  conversation  took  place 
between  the  little  group  sitting  close  to  the  bars  where 
the  riders  were  to  make  their  hurdles.  This  group  was 
composed  of  Thomas  Carter,  his  daughter  Julia,  and 
Sallie  Custis. 

"Do  you  think  'Sam'  can  do  it?"  whispered  Julia 
Carter,  to  her  father. 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  83 

"Can  he  do  it?"  replied  the  ever-sanguine  Tom  Car- 
ter, mindful  that  he  had  invested  all  his  ready  money 
upon  his  own  nephew  in  the  shape  of  well-placed  bets  on 
the  outcome  of  the  contest.  "Sam  has  not  begun  to 
bring  out  half  there  is  in  that  ugly  sorrel  he  is  riding. 
With  his  power  in  handling  horses,  he  could  make  him 
jump  the  moon,  if  it  were  necessary  for  him  to  do  that 
in  order  to  win  this  contest.  He  will  make  any  hurdle 
that  old  Herschberger  gives  them  to  leap,  even  if  he  is 
compelled  to  break  his  horse's  neck,  and  his  own  in  the 
bargain,  in  doing  so.  You  must  remember,  girls,  that 
in  a  contest  like  this,  with  two  such  evenly  matched 
mounts  aS  'York'  and  'Midnight,'  it  is  not  the  horses 
that  count  so  much  as  it  is  the  riders." 

Now  a  murmur  of  applause  from  the  audience  gives 
warning  that  the  final  scene  is  about  to  commence.  The 
two  chief  actors  in  the  drama  are  girding  themselves  for 
the  fray.  With  the  bar  at  five  feet,  Brett  was  to  make 
the  first  attempt.  Going  back  to  the  very  rear  of  the 
riding  hall  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  came  down  the 
sawdust  riding  path  like  a  hurricane.  Then,  as  the 
bar  was  reached,  "Midnight"  gathered  himself  for  the 
spring  and  made  it,  missing  the  bar  with  his  knees  by 
less  than  an  inch.  Then  Burton  was  called  upon  to  make 
the  test.  He  started  his  horse  at  a  slow  gallop,  riding 
with  an  case  and  confidence  that  won  the  applause  be- 
fore he  reached  the  bar.  Then  came  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible tightening  of  the  rein,  to  which  "York"  quickly 
responded,  and  leaped  the  bar  as  easily,  apparently,  as 
he  had  at  the  first  trial.  When  the  applause  had  sub- 
sided, Herschberger,  with  a  sardonic  smile  on  his  face, 


84  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

as  if  determined  to  end  the  contest  then  and  there, 
placed  the  bar  at  six  feet,  higher  than  it  had  ever  been 
placed  before  in  the  annals  of  the  old  riding  academy, 
where  so  many  contests  had  been  held. 

There  was  a  look  of  surprise  on  the  faces  of  both  the 
cadets  as  they  saw  the  seriousness  of  the  task  that  lay 
before  them.  In  Brett's  face  there  was  a  look  of  min- 
gled consternation  and  anxiety;  in  that  of  Burton's 
came  a  look  of  dogged  determination  which  those  who 
were  there  to  witness,  were  destined  to  see  many  times 
in  later  years,  and  then  only  amid  the  carnage  of  smoke 
and  war. 

Before  attempting  the  leap,  both  riders  dismounted 
and  readjusted  and  tightened  their  saddle  girths.  While 
they  were  doing  this  the  spectators  sat  motionless  and 
watched  every  movement  with  almost  breathless  interest. 
The  excitement  of  the  moment  was  intense.  In  her  seat 
in  close  proximity  to  the  bar,  Sallie  Custis  almost  held 
her  breath,  in  the  tense  anxiety  of  the  moment.  Now 
all  is  ready.  Again  Brett  came  first,  handsome  in  ap- 
pearance, like  some  modern  Chevalier  Bayard  or  a 
DeGuesclin,  with  all  the  recklessness  of  his  daredevil 
nature  aroused  and  determined  to  make  the  leap  if  it 
were  possible  for  man  or  beast  to  accomplish  the  feat. 
"Midnight,"  too,  seemed  to  realize  what  was  expected  of 
him.  He  was  a  fiery,  showy  brute,  and  it  made  the 
spectators  shudder  at  the  light,  devil-may-care  manner 
in  which  his  rider  approached  the  bar.  He  seemed 
to  realize  that  this  time  it  was  to  lead  his  master  either 
to  final  victory  or  defeat.  It  was  only  nerves  of  steel 
and  superb  control  which  brought  the  beast  under  com- 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  85 

mand,  and  by  dint  of  much  urging  and  use  of  the  spur 
he  brought  him  to  the  bar  at  a  terrific  speed,  fully  pre- 
pared for  the  leap.  There  was  a  pause,  as  he  neared  the 
hurdle,  every  muscle  taut,  and  quivering.  Then  as  he 
arose  in  the  air  it  was  seen  that  horse  and  rider  were 
doomed  to  failure.  The  pole  was  caught  at  "Mid- 
night's" knees,  and  as  he  felt  the  slight  shock  of  the 
poles  against  the  knees,  Cadet  Brett's  heart  sank  within 
him,  and  his  handsome  face  clouded,  for  he  knew  that 
he  had  met  his  first  serious  defeat. 

The  spectators,  who  had  risen  to  their  feet  in  their 
eagerness  to  watch  the  leap,  stood  breathless  with 
excitement.  You  could  almost  have  heard  a  pin  drop, 
so  intense  was  the  silence  at  that  moment.  Now  all 
eyes  are  turned  on  Burton.  So  fearful  was  the  strain 
upon  the  little  group  of  friends  that  sat  close  to 
the  pole  toward  which  he  was  to  ride,  that  they  scarcely 
breathed.  The  lone  survivor  of  the  contest  now  mounts, 
and  with  firm  hold  upon  the  rein,  awaits  the  signal  to 
start.  The  haunting  fear  that  had  lain  on  his  heart  all 
that  afternoon,  the  fear  of  possible  defeat  before  the 
eyes  of  Sallie  Custis,  had  now  given  place  to  confidence. 
He  alone  of  those  present,  knows  how  little  of  "York's" 
wonderful  reserve  power  has  yet  been  called  into  play. 

The  signal  to  start  is  given  by  the  grim  riding  mas- 
ter. Burton  does  not  start  slowly  this  time,  as  he  had 
done  before.  All  notice  that  he  carries  in  his  hand  now 
for  the  first  time  a  riding  whip.  In  the  contests  that 
had  gone  before,  he  had  used  only  a  high  pressure  of 
the  rein  to  induce  his  horse  to  meet  successfully  the  task 
that  lay  before  them.  Now,  raising  his  whip  high  in 


86  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

his  hand,  he  brings  it  sharply  upon  the  flanks  of  his 
horse.  "York,"  astonished  and  angered  beyond  meas- 
ure, and  unused  to  the  touch  of  the  whip  or  spur,  rouses 
himself  instantly  and  plunges  forward  at  a  break-neck 
speed.  No  longer  is  "York"  the  lazy  and  intractable 
beast  that  he  appeared  in  the  previous  contests.  Sur- 
prise and  the  pain  and  terror  caused  by  the  lash  that 
had  been  so  unexpectedly  applied  to  him  just  a  moment 
before,  has  brought  out  all  the  latent  speed  possessed 
by  generations  of  famous  racing  ancestors  of  years 
gone  by.  All  that  is  patent  is,  that  Burton,  by  his  mas- 
terly tactics,  has  brought  out  every  bit  of  that  reserve 
power  that  has  so  far  lain  dormant  in  the  steed. 

"York"  is  now  flying  down  the  track  like  a  thunder- 
bolt. In  a  moment  he  has  reached  the  bar.  Then,  like  a 
greyhound,  he  gathers  himself  together,  with  all  his 
wondrous  strength  centered,  ready  for  the  leap.  Now, 
as  if  shot  from  a  catapult,  horse  and  rider  rise  in  the 
air  with  all  the  force  and  precision  of  some  perfectly 
adjusted  machine.  An  instant  later,  just  at  the  right 
moment,  and  not  a  second  too  late  or  too  soon,  "York" 
is  seen  to  bend  his  knees  at  the  climax  of  his  great  leap. 
He  clears  the  pole  by  a  good  two  inches,  and  with  his 
rider  seated  on  his  back  as  if  part  and  parcel  of  him- 
self, alights  in  safety  on  the  other  side.  Then,  with 
his  horse  still  under  perfect  control,  Burton  turns  and 
takes  his  place  in  the  line. 

Now  the  applause,  which  could  no  longer  be  re- 
strained, burst  forth  in  such  volume  as  had  never 
before  been  equaled  in  the  old  West  Point  riding 
academy.  From  her  seat  in  the  gallery,  Sallie  Custis,  in 


A  WEST  POINT  ILIAD  87 

the  excitement  of  the  moment,  snatched  the  violets  that 
she  wore  at  her  breast  and  threw  them  down  to  the  vic- 
tor. As  she  did  so,  his  eye  caught  hers.  Without 
drawing  rein,  or  even  dismounting,  he  leaned  forward, 
caught  the  flowers  from  the  ground  where  they  had 
fallen,  then  glancing  upward  with  a  smile  of  grateful 
appreciation,  bowed  his  acknowledgment. 

Unmindful  of  military  discipline,  some  of  the  cadets 
of  Northern  persuasion  rushed  forward  to  congratulate 
him.  It  was  indeed  a  great  victory  that  had  been 
gained  that  day  by  the  unassuming  cadet  from  the  Ohio 
River  Valley.  He  had  beaten  fairly  and  squarely  the 
champion  of  Southern  aristocracy  in  a  field  wherein 
heretofore  he  had  reigned  supreme.  But  order  is  soon 
restored,  and  the  cadets  remain  mounted  while  some 
announcements  are  made.  A  moment  later  the  corps  is 
dismissed  and  the  cadets  again  rush  forward  and  bear 
Burton  triumphantly  in  their  arms  from  the  hall.  Their 
enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds.  Whether  he  would  or  no, 
they  were  determined  to  make  him  a  hero.  He  had  won 
a  great  victory  that  day,  not  only  for  himself,  but  for 
the  section  from  whence  he  came,  and  they  were  bound 
that  he  should  know  it. 

As  the  victors  filed  slowly  out  of  the  Academy  build- 
ing, Tom  Carter  turned  to  Sallie  Custis,  and  said,  in  a 
bantering  tone,  "Don't  you  think  the  best  man  won  this 
time,  Sallie?" 

She  evaded  answering  the  question  in  true  Yankee 
fashion,  by  saying,  "Or  was  it  the  best  horse  that  won?" 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE    COMMENCEMENT    BALL 

THE  Graduation  Ball  at  West  Point  is  to  the  cadets 
— at  least  those  sentimentally  inclined — one  of  the  great 
events  of  commencement  week  at  the  Academy.  For  it, 
preparations  are  made  months  in  advance,  and  to  it  are 
invited  the  friends  and  sweethearts  of  the  embryo  sol- 
diers. The  ball  given  by  the  class  of  '43  was  no  differ- 
ent from  those  that  had  gone  before  or  those  that  fol- 
lowed after  it.  And  yet,  it  seemed  to  the  members  of 
that  body  by  far  the  most  splendid  affair  that  had  oc- 
curred in  the  annals  of  the  Academy.  Among  those  who 
devoutly  shared  in  this  opinion  was  cadet  Burton,  who 
was  acting  on  this  occasion  as  the  escort  for  his  pretty 
Kentucky  cousin,  Julia  Carter.  Brett,  by  virtue  of  his 
possessing  earlier  information  on  the  subject  of  her 
plans,  was  favored  with  the  company  of  Sallie  Custis. 
His  pleasure  in  this  happy  event,  however,  it  must  be 
confessed,  was  seriously  marred  by  his  defeat  of  the 
afternoon  at  the  hands  of  Burton  in  the  great  riding 
contest.  To  the  latter's  great  surprise,  he  found  him- 
self the  lion  of  the  occasion.  He  was  congratulated, 
talked  about  and  pointed  out  to  an  extent  which  would 

88 


THE  COMMENCEMENT  BALL  89 

have  made  a  less  level-headed  youth  vain  beyond  endur- 
ance. 

It  had,  indeed,  been  the  first  great  day  of  a  life 
which  had  hitherto  boasted  of  but  few  days  which  had 
risen  above  the  commonplace  of  routine  existence.  The 
amount  of  hero  worship  which  was  being  guilelessly 
directed  in  Burton's  direction  by  numerous  impression- 
able debutantes  on  the  night  of  the  ball  afforded  to  at 
least  one  observer  a  vast  amount  of  amusement.  This 
was  no  less  a  personage  than  the  hard-and-fast  friend 
of  the  entire  graduating  class,  "Thomas  Carter,  Esq., 
of  Maysville,  Ky."  In  the  presence  of  several  of  the 
cadets  and  their  sweethearts,  he  sternly  admonished 
them  under  no  circumstances  to  forget  that  all  West 
Pointers  were,  under  the  rules  and  regulations  of  the 
Academy,  required  to  abjure  marriage.  "But  take 
comfort,  young  gentlemen,"  he  added,  "in  the  thought 
that  these  do  not  forbid  a  sentimentally  minded  cadet 
thinking  occasionally  on  the  subject.  Neither  do  they, 
on  a  beautiful  moonlight  evening  like  to-night,  prevent 
him  from  asking  an  attractive  young  lady  what  his 
chances  would  be,  if  he  should  offer  himself  within  a 
reasonable  time  after  graduation." 

To  cadet  Burton,  the  sensation  of  being  lionized  on 
such  an  occasion  as  the  Commonwealth  Ball,  inevitably 
brought  to  mind  another  occasion  when  his  position  had 
been  far  different  from  what  it  was  to-night.  His  mind 
recurred  to  that  other  evening,  years  before,  when  from 
the  verandas  of  his  uncle's  home  in  Maysville  he  had 
caught  stolen  glimpses  of  Sallie  Custis,  as  she  moved 
hither  and  thither  in  the  mazes  of  the  dance  within. 


90  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Then  he  was  an  outsider,  only  invited  as  an  onlooker, 
and  present  merely  by  the  fortuitous  chance  of  relation- 
ship to  the  host  of  the  evening.  Now  he  was  part  and 
parcel  of  the  occasion  itself,  and  was  to  meet  on  a  plane 
of  perfect  equality,  one  whom  hitherto  he  had  been  con- 
tent to  worship  only  from  afar. 

The  time  had  now  come  for  him  to  claim  the  two 
dances  Sallie  Custis  had  promised  him.  With  due  re- 
gard for  his  acknowledged  failings  as  a  round  dancer, 
it  had  been  agreed  between  them  that  he  should  only  be 
required  to  play  a  speaking  part.  In  other  words,  they 
were  to  forsake  the  brilliantly  lighted  ballroom  for  a 
time,  while  they  enjoyed  the  moonlight  from  the  broad 
verandas  of  the  hotel.  Once  there  the  conversation 
drifted  from  one  topic  to  another,  until  it  touched  upon 
the  recent  riding  contest  of  the  afternoon. 

"You  see  I  am  wearing  the  laurels  that  came  to  me 
on  that  occasion,"  observed  Burton,  pointing  to  the 
little  bunch  of  violets  which  was  fastened  securely  to  the 
handsome  dress  uniform  which  he  wore. 

"Yes,  and  I  appreciate  it,  Mr.  Burton,"  she  said, 
"and  now  that  every  one  else  has  had  their  chance  of 
congratulating  you  on  your  success  to-day,  I  want  to 
offer  you  mine.  It  was  a  great  victory  and  worthily 
won.  You  have  forgotten,  perhaps,  but  I  have  always 
referred  to  you  since  you  first  went  to  West  Point  as 
'my  cadet.'  I  hope  that  you  will  not  consider  it  ungra- 
cious in  me  when  I  say,  that  I  was  not  sorry  that  'my 
cadet'  won,  even  against  such  a  good  friend  of  mine  as 
Mr.  Brett?" 

Of  course,  her  companion,  being  thus  appealed  to, 


THE  COMMENCEMENT  BALL  91 

had  not  the  slightest  hesitancy  in  assuring  her  that  in 
view  of  the  grave  moral  responsibility  that  was  hers, 
for  having  brought  him  here,  it  would  have  fallen  little 
short  of  a  crime  had  she  failed  to  display  anything  but 
the  most  exuberant  enthusiasm  over  his  recent  eques- 
trian honors.  Human  nature  is,  in  the  main,  the  same 
the  world  over,  and  Burton  must  be  pardoned  for  his 
willingness  on  this  moon-bewitched  hour  to  pose  as  a 
hero  for  the  benefit  of  impressionable  young  woman- 
hood. He  was  not  so  wanting  in  the  strategy  of  the 
amatory  art  as  to  be  blind  to  the  highly  dramatic  effect 
of  his  recent  victory  in  the  riding  academy.  He  was 
tasting  this  day,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  sweets 
of  hero  worship.  It  had  not  caused  him  to  lose  his 
wonted  unaffected  simplicity  and  affableness — only 
made  him  conscious  of  his  temporary  power  and  tempted 
him  to  use  it  to  the  best  advantage. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  presence  of  several 
couples  wandering  along  the  shaded  path  that  led  from 
the  veranda  of  the  hotel  along  the  river  bank,  brought 
forth  from  Burton  the  suggestion  that  they  explore 
briefly  its  attractive  windings.  Nothing  loth,  his  com- 
panion consented.  Soon  they  passed  fearlessly  into  the 
moonlit  pathway  with  its  subdued  half-lights  and  seduc- 
tive shadows. 

Surely  the  setting  of  the  scene  was  one  well  suited 
to  sentiment.  In  the  bright  moonlight  the  surrounding 
landscape  could  be  seen  almost  as  plainly  as  by  the  light 
of  day.  In  the  distance  Crow's  Nest,  Break  Neck,  Bull 
and  Butler  Hills  were  keeping  silent  watch  over  the 
majestic  Hudson.  As  the  youthful  soldier  saw,  in  turn, 


92  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

the  different  monuments  scattered  here  and  there — 
Wood's,  Kosciusko's  and  Dade's — he  thought  of  these 
almost  forgotten  worthies  and  wondered  in  boyish  fash- 
ion how  it  would  seem  to  have  such  magnificent  piles 
erected  to  his  memory. 

The  mountain  sides  were  mottled  here  and  there  by 
the  soft  shadows  of  fleeting  clouds.  Yonder  lay  the 
crumbling  ruins  of  old  Fort  Clinton.  Here  could  be 
seen  the  fires  of  some  steamboat  moving  over  the  silvery 
waters  below.  The  ball  and  all  its  manifold  attractions 
were  for  the  moment  forgotten.  It  seemed  as  if  they 
had  suddenly  been  transported,  by  some  enchantment, 
into  a  world  which  was  all  their  own.  As  they  stood 
together  looking  down  upon  the  moonlit  river,  the  girl 
at  his  side  moved  closer  to  him.  From  beneath  a  flimsy 
covering  of  white  peered  a  face  as  fair  as  ever  was  seen 
within  these  Academy  grounds.  In  the  heart  of  youth 
and  maiden,  sentiment  was  running  riot  that  night. 
Neither  uttered  a  word  or  wished  to  break  the  tender 
silence  of  that  moment.  Yet  there  was  that  in  Burton's 
face  this  night,  which  startled  the  fair  Virginia  girl 
from  her  dreamy  mood  into  one  more  practical  and  less 
poetical.  Perhaps  that  moment  she  admitted  in  her 
heart  of  hearts  for  the  first  time,  the  possibility  of 
events  not  dreamed  of  before. 

Sallie  Custis  had  hitherto  fallen  far  short  of  compre- 
hending the  nature  or  the  strength  of  her  feeling  for 
the  one  who  was  sharing  with  her  the  tender  enjoyment 
of  the  hour.  She  only  knew  one  thing,  and  that  was 
that  she  was  very  comfortable  and  very  happy  when  by 
his  side.  She  could  no  longer  play  the  comfortable 


THE  COMMENCEMENT  BALL  93 

part  of  fairy  godmother  to  him.  Young  as  she  was, 
she  saw  in  him  an  instrument  which  under  the  proper 
touch  might  be  made  to  play  almost  any  chord  at  the 
hands  of  one  who  knew  just  how  to  produce  them.  But 
the  player  must  have  a  delicate  touch. 

And  did  the  youth  by  her  side,  just  stepping  over 
the  shadowy  threshhold  which  separated  the  boy  from 
the  man,  possess  the  master  hand  which  could  draw 
forth  the  love  in  this  young  girl's  heart?  At  that  very 
moment  love,  tender,  true  and  pure,  was  holding  him 
steadfast  in  its  grasp.  He  would  have  given  worlds  to 
have  told  her  of  this  love,  and  yet  he  dared  not.  For, 
until  this  night,  he  had  never  dared  harbor  even  a  hope 
that  Sallie  Custis — the  woman  of  his  dreams — might 
one  day  be  his. 

Why  should  be  not  tell  her  of  his  secret  passion? 
Why  not  to-night?  Where  could  be  found  a  more  ap- 
propriate setting  for  such  a  scene  than  this  sequestered 
path  on  this  moonlit  shore  of  the  historic  Hudson?  The 
occasion  and  the  surroundings  so  full  of  romance,  so 
productive  of  opportunity,  tempted  him  strongly.  And 
yet,  with  that  intuitive  caution  which  was  to  stand  him 
in  such  good  stead  in  all  the  years  to  come,  he  felt  that 
the  time  had  not  yet  come  for  him  to  openly  commence 
the  siege  of  this  young  girl's  virgin  heart.  He  must 
not  yet  even  whisper  his  love  for  this  fair  daughter  of 
the  South.  Her  friendship — uncommingled  with  any 
touch  of  sentiment,  was  too  precious  to  him,  to  risk  its 
loss,  by  uttering  words  that  might  lose  even  that  for 
him  forever.  He  would  bide  his  time,  and  then  when  the 
opportunity  came,  he  would  speak.  Therefore,  dismiss- 


94  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

ing  from  that  moment  all  thought  of  indulging  in  seri- 
ous sentiment,  he  would  make  the  most  of  this  moon- 
light night  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  and  yet  stop 
short  of  a  formal  avowal  of  his  real  feelings  toward 
her. 

Long  hours  that  night,  after  he  had  retired  to  rest, 
he  lay  awake  and  lived  over  again  not  only  the  day  that 
was  now  past,  but  those  other  days  as  well  (so  few  in 
number)  which  he  had  passed  in  her  company.  Each 
was  tinged  with  a  romance  all  its  own.  Each,  too,  had 
its  own  story,  unlike  the  other  which  preceded  or  came 
after  it.  And  when  he  had  traced  it  all  to  the  very  end, 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  question  which 
nascent  manhood  throughout  the  ages  has  been  called 
upon  to  answer,  "I  love  her,  but  can  I  win  her  love?" 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    PARTING    OF    THE    WAYS 

COMMENCEMENT  week  at  West  Point  is  always  a 
memorable  one.  With  the  arrival  of  the  friends  and  rela- 
tives of  the  graduates  come  the  august  "board  of  vis- 
itors," with  their  solemn  faces  and  awe-inspiring  names. 
At  this  time  the  first  flutter  of  dimity  is  seen  among  the 
trees,  indicative  of  the  presence  of  those  charming  bits 
of  femininity,  whose  presence  alone  can  insure  the  com- 
plete success  of  the  festivities  of  commencement  week. 
After  this  comes  the  presentation  of  diplomas,  followed 
by  the  farewell  serenade  with  its  sweet  minor  music.  The 
next  day  brings  with  it  the  last  parade,  beautiful  and 
solemn  to  the  members  of  the  graduating  class.  It 
carried  with  it  those  tender  thoughts  and  blessed  mem- 
ories of  school-days,  now  fast  ebbing  away.  In  many 
an  eye  that  afternoon  there  appeared  a  suspicious  mois- 
ture, which  it  was  difficult  to  hide. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  members  of  the  graduating  class 
— so  soon  to  become  officers  of  the  regular  army — took 
their  hats  off"  in  salute  to  their  honored  commandant, 
feeling,  at  the  same  time,  a  rending  of  their  heart- 
strings as  if  some  cord  had  snapped.  After  reveille  on 
the  morrow  they  know  they  will  have  no  place  there  as 

95 


96  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

their  own.  They  will  no  longer  have  any  part  in  the 
life  of  the  Academy,  but  must  depart,  soon  to  be  for- 
gotten, unless  perchance  in  later  years  fame  shall  recall 
to  the  world  and  to  the  cadet  body  of  some  future  day 
the  fact  that  they  were  once  West  Point  cadets. 

Then  follows  the  last  evening  of  all,  the  time  when 
the  "stag  banquet"  is  laid  off  on  the  pavement  of  the 
old  South  Barracks  to  the  mess  hall  beyond.  The  can- 
dles— fitted  into  the  bayonets — are  stuck  down  un- 
lighted  in  the  bright  starlight  of  a  warm  June  evening 
and  everything  is  ready  for  the  farewell  of  the 
graduating  class  of  '43. 

Burton  and  his  thirty-eight  classmates — all  that  have 
weathered  the  storms  of  four  years  of  academy  life — 
have  come  at  last  to  the  sad  "parting  of  the  ways." 
Long  since  the  members  of  the  graduating  class  entered 
into  a  solemn  compact  that  their  last  night  together  at 
the  "Point"  should  be  solemnized  with  a  grand  "war 
smoke"  that  should  make  the  occasion  one  never  to  be 
forgotten.  The  plans  had  long  since  been  laid.  Pre- 
cious incense  was  to  be  burned  that  night  on  the  altar  of 
friendship ;  tender  memories  would  then  be  cherished, 
accompanied  by  much  wistful  glancing  into  what  the 
great  future  might  hold  in  store  for  each  member  of  the 
graduating  class. 

The  swift  passage  of  four  years  had  delivered  them 
all  from  the  humble  "rue  de  cockloft"  which  they  had 
occupied  as  plebes,  until  now  they  luxuriated  in  bright 
sunny  rooms  really  attractive,  and  approaching  in  com- 
fort those  of  later  days.  Here  they  had  shared  together 
the  good  fortune  as  well  as  vicissitudes  of  cadet  days. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  97 

Here  they  had  lived  together  a  life  full  of  bright  hopes 
and  fancies.  Here  they  had  struggled  together  with 
"trig,"  "analytical"  and  "phil."  Here  they  had  voiced 
with  unmistakable  American  "patois"  the  sweet  Cas- 
tilian  as  well  as  the  nasal  French  tongue.  Here,  too, 
had  occurred  certain  nocturnal  culinary  operations  not 
contemplated  by  the  rules  of  the  Academy.  Here  the 
manly  art  of  self-defense  had  been  reduced  to  such  an 
exact  science  that  it  could  be  formulated  into  an  equa- 
tion of  black  eyes  and  broken  noses.  Here  had  been 
acquired  the  prized  power  to  use  the  weed,  with 
impunity. 

This  had  been  their  home  for  four  years,  and  now 
they  must  turn  their  faces  toward  the  outer  world,  and 
take  their  places  as  officers  in  the  regular  army,  ready 
to  do,  and  if  necessary,  die,  in  the  service  of  their  coun- 
try. There  they  must  travel  with  care  strange  and 
unlooked-for  paths.  Some,  perhaps  soon,  would 
tread  the  quiet  and  dark  valley,  while  others  would  pass 
through  into  the  uplands  beyond.  A  few,  yea,  a  very 
few,  might  hope  to  reach  the  mountain  tops  of  life. 

Life  had  never  seemed  to  look  more  beautiful  than 
during  those  swiftly  passing  commencement  days.  The 
growing  foliage,  the  warmer  tints,  the  flowers,  all  were 
a  sort  of  prophecy  of  the  deeper  joys  to  come.  On  this 
very  evening,  as  they  sat  together  beneath  the  elms  in 
front  of  the  barracks,  singing  their  time-honored  songs, 
listening  to  the  tattoo  of  the  drum  corps,  as  it  marched 
over  the  parade  ground,  they  for  the  first  time  began  to 
realize  what  their  departure  on  the  morrow  really 
meant.  Slowly  a  sense  of  the  reality  of  it  all  entered 


98  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

their  minds  and  hearts  and  they  felt  like  puppets  in 
some  mighty  play  whose  heroic  plot  they  failed  to 
understand.  At  other  times  the  barracks  had  seemed  to 
them  like  a  house  of  bondage,  and  yet,  on  the  morrow 
they  would  find  it  had  been  a  house  of  refuge. 

And  what  a  group  it  was  that  gathered  there  on  that 
June  evening  in  1843,  beneath  the  trees  of  the  historic 
campus.  At  the  head  of  the  improvised  table  sat  Carl 
Brett,  as  handsome  a  cadet  as  ever  left  West  Point,  a 
picture  of  perfectly  developed  figure  and  strength. 
Then,  grouped  around  him  from  left  to  right,  sat  the 
rest  of  the  class.  Yonder  sat  "Dragon"  Arnaux  and 
Frank,  the  leaders  in  the  race  for  the  "fives,"  and 
experts  in  securing  a  "max."  Next  to  them  was  "Doc" 
Reese,  with  the  poetical  mind.  Then  Nykins  Bixby,  the 
profound  mathematician,  "Dad"  Rankin,  the  practical 
joker  of  the  class — a  downcast  Yankee,  and  "Bob" 
Hamilton,  a  splendid  fellow  with  a  lot  of  the  daredevil 
in  him.  Besides  these  there  were  others  with  whom 
Burton  was  not  at  all  intimate,  such  as  "Gulger"  Rose, 
"Bullhead"  Baxter,  "Jeremy  Diddler"  Jones,  "Bob" 
Tapley,  Simon  Tappity,  Teddy  Lamb,  "Beauty"  Rog- 
ers and  "Nancy"  Sykes.  None  of  those  present  knew 
of  the  strange  fate  that  was  in  store  for  that  strangely 
assorted  group  that  had  been  gathered  there  from  all 
parts  of  the  United  States. 

There  were  thirty-nine  in  the  class,  all  present  on  this 
eventful  June  evening.  Within  three  years,  had  they 
but  known  it,  one  among  their  number  was  to  perish 
beneath  the  waters  of  the  Rio  Grande,  at  the  threshold 
of  a  campaign  on  foreign  soil  undreamed  of  at  that 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  99 

hour.  There  were  others  there  that  night  fated  to  fall 
a  few  years  later  on  foreign  battlefields,  where  the 
true  soldier  prefers  to  meet  his  fate.  Still  others  were 
destined  to  pass  away  before  they  heard  the  rumble  of 
the  great  conflict  that  was  so  soon  to  arise  between  the 
sections.  Still  others  were  to  wear  the  star  of  a  general 
in  the  great  Civil  War  that  was  to  come,  enlisted  on  the 
side  of  a  government,  which  had  taught  the  art  of  war 
for  its  own  defense,  while  on  the  other  side  would  be 
found  three  of  their  number,  who  in  their  turn  would 
wear  stars  bestowed  by  a  hostile  and  rival  government. 
One  of  them  was  to  give  up  the  material  life  to  serve  in 
the  army  of  the  church  militant,  while  one  among  their 
number  was  to  reach  the  summit  of  human  fame  as  a 
general,  one  of  the  great  commanders  of  all  time — in 
that  mighty  conflict  whose  shadow  had  even  then  com- 
menced to  fall  upon  the  country. 

After  the  cadets  had  finished  the  feast,  they  sang 
"Willie  Brewed  a  Peck  o'  Malt,"  and  then  came  the 
speeches,  which  were  responded  to  with  at  least  a  few 
words  from  one  and  all.  Toasts  were  drunk  to  sweet- 
hearts and  Alma  Mater,  then  with  the  singing  of  "Auld 
Lang  Syne,"  they  dispersed,  never  again  to  meet  as  a 
class. 

It  was  indeed  a  solemn  hour  and  one  never  to  be  for- 
gotten, this  parting  of  the  ways,  for  the  class  of  '43. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

AN  AFTERNOON  AT   CABIN   JOHN*S 

NEARLY  two  years  have  elapsed  since  the  class  of 
1843  graduated  from  the  Military  Academy  at  West 
Point.  The  members  thereof  had  been  assigned  to  the 
various  arms  of  the  service  and  were  scattered  as  super- 
numerary second  lieutenants  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific.  Among  this  small  army  of  officers  was  to  be 
found  Lieutenant  Burton,  who  had  spent  most  of  his 
time  at  a  small  post  on  one  of  the  great  lakes. 

During  the  past  two  years  he  had  kept  up  an  animated 
correspondence  with  the  young  mistress  of  Vaucluse 
and  had  in  immediate  prospect  the  opportunity  of  see- 
ing her  in  Washington,  where  she  resided  while  her 
father  was  in  Congress,  representing  one  of  the  dis- 
tricts of  the  Old  Dominion,  during  that  period  which 
preceded  the  Mexican  War.  Orders  had  been  issued 
for  the  Fourth  Infantry  (to  which  Burton  belonged)  to 
rendezvous  at  New  Orleans,  preparatory  to  embarkment 
for  Texas.  It  was  well  understood  that  this  was  but  a 
preliminary  step  to  the  invasion  of  Mexico  by  the  Amer- 
ican troops,  and  all  the  officers  of  our  little  army  were 
looking  forward  with  a  lively  interest  to  the  campaign 
on  foreign  soil. 

100 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       101 

Burton  had,  with  no  inconsiderable  display  of  diplo- 
macy, so  arranged  matters  that  he  could  go  from  his 
present  post  to  New  Orleans  by  way  of  Washington, 
thus  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  see  Sallie  Custis 
before  embarking  upon  the  perils  and  uncertainties  of  a 
bloody  campaign.  It  was  not  long  after  his  arrival  in 
Washington  that  Lieutenant  Burton  presented  him- 
self at  the  home  of  Judge  Custis,  and  requested  an 
audience  with  the  fair  daughter  of  the  house.  Word 
was  promptly  sent  down  that  the  lady  in  question  would 
see  him  in  a  few  moments.  While  he  waited  the  regula- 
tion disciplinary  period  for  her  ladyship  to  put  in  an 
appearance,  the  visitor  employed  his  time  wondering 
what  the  manner  of  his  reception  would  be.  Suddenly 
there  came  the  premonitory  rustle  of  a  dress  on  the 
stairway  and  he  found  his  heart  beating  with  provoking 
rapidity  as  he  found  himself  once  more — after  a  separa- 
tion of  two  years — standing  face  to  face  with  Sallie 
Custis. 

Her  greeting  was  cordial  and  unaffectedly  sincere, 
and  yet  there  was  a  reserve  about  her  manner,  which, 
manlike,  he  found  difficulty  in  interpreting  to  his 
satisfaction. 

What  it  was  which  caused  it  he  could  not  tell-,  but 
its  presence  was  felt  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
meeting.  As  they  sat  and  chatted  together  he  confessed 
to  himself  that  never  in  all  her  life  had  Sallie  Custis 
possessed  the  beauty  that  was  hers  to-day,  and  she,  on 
her  side,  recognized  that,  in  the  bronzed  and  soldierly 
personage  before  her,  was  a  type  of  man  who  had 


102  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

strong  attractions  for  a  woman  of  her  clear  insight  and 
strongly  sympathetic  nature. 

Soon  Judge  Custis  came  in  and  greeted  his  visitor  in 
the  same  courtly  manner  which  was  second  nature  to 
this  Virginia  gentleman  of  the  antebellum  school. 
After  a  call  lasting  an  hour  or  more,  the  visitor  took 
his  departure.  After  that  he  called  daily,  during  his 
week's  stay  in  the  capital  city. 

One  afternoon  toward  the  close  of  his  visit  he 
invited  Sallie  Custis  to  drive  with  him  out  to  Cabin 
John's  Bridge.  In  extending  this  invitation,  it  was 
understood  by  both  that  this  was  to  be  their  last  fare- 
well talk  together  before  Burton  should  depart  for  the 
South. 

It  was  a  wonderful  drive  they  took  together  that  fair 
May  afternoon.  The  road  traveled  was  the  one  that 
follows  the  shores  of  the  Potomac  until  it  reaches  the 
bridge  made  famous  by  old  Cabin  John.  There  was 
first  the  superb  view  of  the  old  aqueduct  bridge  and 
the  Virginia  shore  from  the  Georgetown  and  Cabin 
John's  road.  Then  came  the  group  of  picturesque 
negro  cabins,  with  their  dusky  denizens  in  the  fore- 
ground. Here  and  there,  as  they  passed  through  the 
bits  of  woodland,  there  was  about  it  all  just  a  sugges- 
tion of  untouched  solitude  with  its  soft  breath  of  thick 
unsunned  foliage.  There  was  everywhere  a  wealth  of 
things  inanimate  and  animate.  An  hour's  drive,  and 
there  came  to  them  through  the  thick  verdure  overhead 
a  light  which  foretold  an  opening.  This  was  soon 
reached,  and  they  found  themselves  driving  over  the 
bridge  to  the  famous  hostelry  which  bears  the  name  of 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       103 

"Cabin  John's."  Once  there  they  alighted  and  pre- 
pared to  enjoy  the  scene  about  them. 

The  woods  were  redolent  of  perfume.  The  dogwood 
was  in  bloom,  and  there  was  an  unspeakable  charm 
about  it  all.  They  strolled  down  to  the  Potomac  River 
bank  and  watched  its  turgid  waters  as  they  darted 
along  with  the  picturesque  canal  by  its  side. 

How  charming  Sallie  Custis  looked,  in  his  eyes,  that 
afternoon.  Her  light  silken  hair,  gathered  in  a  heavy 
braid  beneath  her  gray  hat ;  her  mouth  delicately  lipped 
and  suggestive:  her  eyes,  clear  with  animation  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  drive.  He  enveloped  her  with  royal 
dignity  as  she  stood  beside  him  that  bewitching  May 
day  afternoon.  Across  the  river  was  the  suggestion  of 
wooded  hills  and  upland  meadows.  The  charm  of  the 
picture  which  unfurled  itself  before  their  eyes  over- 
powered them  both.  Unconsciously,  as  they  gazed,  the 
girl  laid  her  gloved  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  then  con- 
scious of  what  she  had  done,  withdrew  her  hand  with  a 
word  of  apology  and  a  foolish  color  that  annoyed  her 
beyond  words  to  express.  This  little  incident  made  her 
more  reserved  after  that  than  she  might  otherwise  have 
been.  It  had  been  planned  between  them  that  they 
should  get  an  early  dinner  at  Cabin  John's  Bridge 
and  then  employ  the  long  spring  twilight  for  their 
return  drive  to  the  city.  Burton  discovered  that  they 
had  a  couple  of  hours  left  before  the  dinner  that  he  had 
ordered  would  be  served,  and  he  suggested  that  they  fill 
in  their  time  by  taking  a  stroll  through  one  of  the 
inviting  wooded  paths  that  led  from  the  bank  opposite 
to  that  where  Cabin  John's  hostelry  is  built.  So. 


104  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

nothing  loth,  she  allowed  herself  to  be  enticed  into  cross- 
ing the  bridge  to  a  path  whose  secluded  qualities  offered 
extraordinary  facilities  for  a  lovers'  ambush.  After 
progressing  some  distance  along  this  shaded  pathway, 
they  sat  down  on  a  convenient  log  to  rest.  Sallie 
Custis  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  wide-spreading 
oak,  while  her  cavalier  extended  himself  in  a  half-reclin- 
ing position  near-by.  Seeing  some  violets  growing  be- 
side her,  Sallie  Custis  proceeded  to  pluck  and  then  to 
present  them  to  her  companion.  After  having  passed 
through  the  trying  ordeal  of  having  the  flowers  pinned 
on  the  lapel  of  his  coat  by  her  own  hands,  he  seemed 
strangely  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  it  was  that  a 
subtle  communication,  yet  unspoken,  and  perhaps  not 
fully  understood  by  either,  passed  between  them,  fated 
to  bind  their  destinies  together,  in  a  way  that  neither  of 
them  could  then  foretell.  And  he,  blunt  and  soldier-like, 
as  became  a  son  of  Mars,  felt  strangely  inclined  to  begin 
the  attack  at  once.  But  it  was  evident  from  the  sudden 
change  in  his  companion's  attitude  toward  him,  that 
she  was  on  her  guard.  So  distant  and  dignified  had  she 
become  that  he  even  fancied  that  he  had  in  some  unac- 
countable manner  offended  her.  And  yet  he  could  not 
conceal  the  look  of  admiration  that  passed  over  his  face, 
as  he  studied  closely  the  picture  presented  by  the  woman 
before  him.  Sallie  Custis  had,  for  the  young  soldier  at 
her  side,  a  wondrous  fascination  on  this  warm  May 
afternoon. 

The  grace  of  her  figure,  the  curves  of  her  arm,  the 
delicacy  of  her  hands,  the  bright  glow  on  her  rounded 
cheek  and  the  glow  of  her  hair  beneath  her  hat,  were  all 


.SCENE.  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S  BRIDGE.  tPa£e   104) 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       105 

carefully  noted.  To  all  this  was  added  the  fact  of  her 
presence  so  near  to  him  as  to  make  him  feel  strangely 
moved.  It  was  indeed  a  dangerous  contiguity  with  this 
fair  woman,  the  idol  of  those  dreams  which  he  had  cher- 
ished almost  from  the  first  and  which  he  had  once  feared 
would  pass  out  of  his  life  some  time  forever.  He  re- 
called the  few  weeks  they  had  passed  together  at  Mays- 
ville  six  years  before,  their  few  brief  rides,  her  quick 
appreciation  and  ready  sympathy,  her  gentleness  and 
kindliness  toward  him  when  he  was  friendless  among 
friends,  her  interest  in  him  and  the  encouragement 
given  when  she  was  herself  but  a  girl,  and,  finally,  the 
way  in  which  she  endeavored  to  understand  him  aright. 
He  saw  the  delicate  outlines  of  her  face  near  his  own ; 
the  faint  shadowing  of  her  brown  hair,  the  soft  color- 
ing of  her  eyes,  and  in  a  way  he  was  afraid  of  her  and 
restrained.  In  his  heart,  he  recalled  the  fact,  that  by 
right  of  birth,  she  belonged  to  a  world  of  wealth  and 
pleasure,  from  which  only  six  years  before  he  thought 
himself  barred  out  forever.  And  yet  within  that  world 
lay  his  only  hope  of  realizing  his  dearest  dreams.  Was 
there  any  such  thing  as  an  aristocracy  of  love? 

During  these  years  there  had  grown  up  unconsciously 
in  his  heart  a  contemplative  love,  an  unexpressed  long- 
ing, yea,  even  the  happiness  of  concealed  hope.  He  saw 
in  Sallie  Custis  something  more  than  a  wonderfully  win- 
ning personality.  She  was  the  one  girl  in  all  the  world 
to  him. 

There  could  never  be  any  other,  whether  she  loved  him 
in  return  or  not.  Until  he  met  her,  his  life  had  been 
without  definite  object.  But,  somehow,  everything  had 


106  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

changed  wonderfully  since  that  memorable  day  at 
Maysville  when  he  had  first  met  her.  He  had  himself 
grown  rapidly  during  these  intervening  years.  She  had 
indeed  opened  up  for  him  a  new  world  and  had  sug- 
gested thoughts  that  had  given  rise  to  those  strange 
emotions  which  now  found  lodgment  in  his  breast. 

The  passing  of  these  last  few  years  had  brought  with 
it  the  consciousness  of  reserve  power  and  the  burning 
motive  to  reach  forward  and  higher  and  higher  until 
he  could  win  the  laurels  of  the  world,  and  with  it,  her 
own  dear  self.  To  the  young  soldier,  to  win  the  heart 
of  this  fair  girl  of  his  dreams,  had  become  the  supreme 
purpose  of  life.  Though  he  was  a  dweller  with  her  in  a 
land  of  abstract  equality,  his  task,  he  well- knew,  was  no 
less  difficult  than  if  he  had  set  out  to  win  the  hand  of 
some  queen  across  the  sea.  To  him  Sallie  Custis  was  as 
a  tender  hothouse  plant  in  a  world  of  sunshine  and 
light.  As  for  him,  he  had  once  seemed  but  a  mere  bit  of 
human  driftwood,  that  had  been  cast  up  by  chance  for  a 
few  glorious  hours  upon  the  shore  of  a  lotus  land, 
wherein  she  reigned  supreme.  He  saw  in  her  family  the 
presence  of  a  race  gentler  born  than  his  own,  but  then 
with  it  came  the  thought  that  he  had  been  taught  to  be 
a  good  citizen,  a  faithful  and  obedient  son,  and  to  come 
from  honest  blood  was  better  than  high  lineage — if  at 
the  expense  of  those  lofty  moral  qualities  which  alone 
make  the  man.  As  she  had  been  during  the  past  four 
years  the  strongest  single  influence  in  his  life,  so  in  the 
future,  whether  she  would  return  his  love  or  not,  his 
love  for  her  would  be  the  one  supreme  passion  of  his  life. 

Looking  up,  the  girl  saw  in  his  face  for  the  first  time 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       107 

what  others  saw  so  often  in  later  years,  the  evidence  of 
perfect  self-restraint  and  unswerving  purpose.  In  the 
presence  of  the  enemy  Burton  was  never  able  to  main- 
tain neutral  or  defensive  ground,  but  was  always  con- 
strained to  assume  the  offensive.  So  he  plunged  in  at 
the  first  opportunity  that  offered  itself. 

They  had  been  conversing  on  every  topic  under  the 
sun,  except  the  one  that  was  uppermost  in  both  minds. 
Finally,  the  subject  of  possible  brevets  for  him  in  the 
campaign  before  him  was  mentioned,  and  in  an  un- 
guarded moment  Sallie  Custis  was  led  to  remark  "that 
she  had  no  belief  in  brevets  anyway.  They  were  nothing 
but  shams,  and  she  hated  shams." 

"So  do  I,"  was  the  prompt  response  of  her  compan- 
ion, "and  I  am  tired  of  shamming  any  longer."  But  he 
got  no  farther.  The  color  rose  in  her  cheeks  at  his 
words,  and  her  eyes  looked  up  mischievously  into  his,  as 
she  replied. 

"Mr.  Burton,  don't  they  teach  diplomacy  at  West 
Point?" 

Her  companion's  gray  eyes  lighted  up  as  he  replied: 
"Not  enough  to  hurt  us,  Miss  Sallie." 

"I  thought  as  much." 

"And  why?" 

"Because  you  don't  seem  to  make  much  use  of  the 
little  they  do  teach." 

"Why  is  that,  Miss  Sallie?" 

"Diplomats  never  force  an  issue,  unless  they  are  pre- 
pared for  war.  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  peace  be- 
tween us  than  war?"  she  said,  looking  momentarily  very 
belligerent. 


108  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Burton  hastened  to  assure  her  that  "not  only  was 
his  mood  far  from  being  bent  upon  war,  but  that  he 
made  it  a  matter  of  principle  never  to  war  on  women, 
particularly  young  and  charming  ones." 

She  stopped  him  at  this  point  to  inform  him,  in  very 
severe  tones,  "That  he  must  stop  interfering  with  one 
of  woman's  most  sacred  prerogatives,  that  of  being  per- 
mitted to  do  the  greater  share  of  the  talking." 

"Sallie,"  said  he,  in  serious  tones,  "if  I  may  call  you 
by  that  name  for  once,  I  came  out  here,  not  to  talk 
to  you  about  war,  or  to  pose  before  you  as  one  of 
its  heroes.  It  was  to  speak  of  something  nearer  to 
my  heart  than  this.  Two  summers  ago  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  that  the  greatest  influence  in  my  life  has  been  my 
love  for  you,  but  I  dared  not  speak  then.  Beneath  its 
inspiration  I  have  climbed  up  in  my  slow  way  step  by 
step,  to  a  place  where  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  at  least, 
I  might  stand  before  you  on  a  plane  of  equality  and  ask 
you  to  be  my  wife.  In  plain  words  and  simple  speech, 
which  alone  are  at  my  command,  it  is  difficult  for  me  to 
tell  you,  even  in  homely  language,  all  that  you  have 
been  to  me.  When  as  a  boy  I  came  as  a  rough  farm  lad 
to  Maysville  and  saw  you  there,  you  seemed  more  like 
an  angel  to  me  than  real  flesh  and  blood,  and  I  was  glad 
to  worship  you  from  afar.  And  then,  somehow,  you 
showed  me  kindness  and  my  heart  was  full  of  gratitude. 
In  your  unconscious  girlish  way  you  opened  up  before 
me  the  gates  of  hope  and  pointed  out  to  me  a  life  which 
was  worthy  of  your  own. 

"I  can  never  forget  those  happy  days  in  Maysville, 
when  you  were  more  than  kind  to  me — a  poor  homesick 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       109 

country  boy,  knowing  nothing  of  the  world  and  its 
ways.  As  you  know,  it  was  you  who  first  suggested  the 
thought  to  my  mind  of  going  to  West  Point  and  thus 
opening  a  career  for  myself.  Then,  too,  that  I  have 
made  a  successful  beginning  is  due  largely  to  you.  It 
has  been  the  dream  of  my  life  to  some  day  tell  you  of 
these  things  and  more." 

Here  his  voice  trembled  and  he  hesitated  a  moment 
before  proceeding. 

"And  it  was  for  you  I  made  the  venture  and  passed 
successfully  into  the  cadet  life  at  West  Point.  At  the 
close  of  my  second  year  there  came  your  invitation  to 
visit  at  Vaucluse,  and  my  cup  of  happiness  was  com- 
plete. Of  those  two  weeks  spent  there  I  can  only  say 
that  they  were  among  the  happiest  of  my  life.  Four 
years  passed,  and  then  came  graduation,  and  what  was 
more,  it  brought  us  together  again.  The  reverence 
which  lay  deep  in  my  heart  all  those  years,  I  found  had 
then  blossomed  into  something  stronger  and  holier. 
Hopeless  and  foolish  as  it  might  seem  to  that  world  in 
which  you  move,  I  have  learned  to  love  you  beyond  all 
words  of  mine  to  tell.  The  victory  in  the  riding  school 
that  Commencement  day  was  dear  to  me  only  because  it 
brought  you  nearer.  The  walk  that  we  had  together 
that  last  night  at  the  Point  seemed  to  me  a  glimpse  of 
Paradise  itself.  There  were  things  I  longed  to  tell  you 
that  night,  but  I  dared  not.  I  owe  much  to  the  govern- 
ment which  took  me  and  which  I  am  proud  to  serve.  My 
success  in  this  war  that  is  now  all  but  upon  us  may  not  be 
so  great  as  that  of  others  who  will  win  greater  rewards. 
I  only  seek  such,  that  I  may  lay  them  at  your  feet.  I 


110  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

shall  simply  do  my  full  duty,  that  is  all.  I  am  going  to 
leave  to-morrow  to  take  up,  after  a  brief  visit  home,  the 
real  life  of  a  soldier.  I  may  come  back — or  sleep  on 
foreign  soil,  as  God  wills  it.  Before  I  go,  whether  it 
find  any  response  in  your  heart  or  not,  I  must  tell  you 
something  of  the  reverence  and  love  that  I  bear  and 
have  borne  toward  you  almost  from  the  day  we  first 
met.  Since  that  day  you  have  been  my  queen,  in  whose 
service  I  would  gladly  remain  if  you  would  but  let  me. 
It  is  not  much  that  I  offer,  but  it  is  all  that  I  have. 
You  know  much  of  my  past,  and  from  it,  perhaps,  you 
can  obtain  a  prophecy  of  what  the  future  will  be.  With 
•the  promise  of  your  love  I  can  make  it  anything  that 
you  would  wish.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  decide  now  whether 
you  will  accept  this  love  that  is  offered  you.  I  can 
wait." 

The  man  then  looked  into  the  averted  eyes  of  the 
woman  beside  him,  whose  pale  face  and  rapid  breathing 
gave  evidence  of  the  intensity  of  the  crisis  which  she 
knew  must  be  met  without  further  evasion. 

"And  yet,  may  I  dare  to  hope  that  you  have  during 
all  these  years  learned  to  love  me  a  little  in  return,,  and 
that  you  will  promise  to  some  day  become  a  soldier's 
wife  ?  I  do  not  know  what  the  future  has  in  store,  for  I 
cannot  offer  you  position  or  wealth  or  an  illustrious 
name.  But  I  feel  that,  with  your  love  to  inspire  me,  with 
you  as  the  mistress  of  my  home,  there  will  be  no  place 
too  high  to  attain,  no  task  too  great  to  accomplish. 
And — is — this —  great — gift —  to  —  be  —  mine — to — 
keep — always  ?" 

While   Burton   was   speaking,   a  look  of  tenderness 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S      111 

came  over  the  young  girl's  face.  Her  soft  brown  eyes 
looked  up  at  him  from  under  heavy  lashes  which  were 
lowered  while  she  spoke. 

"I  know  your  worth.  I  have  guessed  something  of 
the  story  you  have  told  me  to-day.  No  true  woman 
exists  but  must  feel  proud  to  have  offered  to  her  the 
love  of  such  a  man  as  yourself.  I  believe  in  you  through 
and  through.  Even  as  a  country  lad,  I  believed  in  you, 
and  every  year  since  has  added  to  my  faith  in  you.  You 
are  good  and  pure  and  true — a  manly  man — whom 
any  woman  might  feel  proud  to  call  her  friend.  I  can- 
not be  truthful  and  deny  that  I  knew  that  you  cared 
for  me  in  the  way  you  say.  For  I  have  known  it  ever 
since  the  night  of  the  Commencement  Ball  at  the  Point. 
You  ask  me  whether  I  can  return  your  love.  I  do  not 
wish  you  to  think  for  a  moment  that  I  do  not  care  for 
you,  for  I  do.  I  only  question  whether  I  love  you  as  a 
woman  should  who  is  to  entrust  her  life's  happiness  into 
a  man's  keeping.  I  admire,  beyond  words  to  express, 
truthfulness  and  unselfishness,  purity  and  honor  among 
men,  and  these  you  possess  beyond  what  most  men  have. 
Then,  too,  I  believe  that  the  future  has  great  things  in 
store  for  you,  if  you  keep  to  the  true  ideals  which  have 
guarded  you  so  far.  That  anything  will  ever  cause  you 
to  swerve  from  those  ideals,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to 
believe.  I  do  not  know  just  why  I  should  tell  you  this. 
Yet  love  is  the  most  wonderful  gift  that  is  given  from 
above. 

"To  be  frank  with  you,"  she  observed,  in  her  softest 
Southern  tone,  "I  am  not  ready  to  say  no,  but  I  like  you 
too  well  to  say  yes.  While  you  are  away  on  the  cam- 


112  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

paign  that  is  now  before  you,  you  may  write  me,  if  you 
wish,  and  I  will  answer.  Are  you  content  with  this?" 

Burton  displayed  some  not  altogether  unnatural 
curiosity  on  the  subject  of  how  much  time  must  elapse 
before  she  arrived  at  a  definite  conclusion  on  the  sub- 
ject. She  waited  a  moment,  apparently  engaged  in 
deep  reflection. 

"Mr.  Burton,  could  you  keep  a  secret,  if  I  told  you 
one?" 

Receiving  his  solemn  assertion  that  his  bosom  should 
be  a  veritable  mausoleum  for  all  such  treasures,  she  pro- 
ceeded : 

"Well,  the  truth  is  that  I  have  already  promised 
another  [at  this  point  Burton's  heart  sinks  very  low] 
man  that  he  shall  have  an  answer  one  way  or  the  other 
before  very  long." 

Burton's  face  became  radiant.  "But  you  have  not 
answered  yet  ?" 

"No,  but  I  don't  see  why  that  should  make  you  look 
so  elated." 

"Because  I  know  that  the  other  man  in  the  case  is 
Brett.  I  have  beaten  him  in  one  contest,  perhaps  I  can 
in  another.  Anyway,  if  we  only  have  that  war,  I  might 
be  sure  of  it." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out  ?"  she  queried,  in  a  tone 
of  unmistakable  interest. 

"He  may  be  shot  or  captured,  while  I  return  in  tri- 
umph to  claim  my  reward." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  Time  alone  can  tell.  You 
have  my  respect,  absolutely  and  without  reservation. 
Of  the  future  I  hardly  dare  speak.  Your  life's  story 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S       113 

and  mine  have  differed  so  widely.  Leaving  my  own 
views  out  of  the  subject,  you  must  know  that  my  family 
have  been  accustomed  to  look  at  these  matters  from  a 
standpoint  wholly  at  variance  with  your  own.  I  may 
say  to  you,  in  confidence,  that  they  would  not  regret  it  if 
I  should  form  an  alliance  already  offered  me  nearer 
home.  Be  that  as  it  may,  my  own  mind  is  by  no  means 
made  up.  I  care  for  you  to-day  more  than  I  thought  I 
could  ever  care  for  any  man.  Beyond  that,  I  must  say 
nothing  more  at  this  time.  The  future  alone  must  de- 
cide this  question  for  me.  For  the  present  be  content 
with  that." 

When  she  had  spoken  thus,  she  suggested  their  return 
to  Cabin  John's.  An  hour  later  found  them  riding  rap- 
idly back  toward  the  city.  That  evening  Burton  was 
given  no  opportunity  for  a  further  tete-a-tete,  but  was 
invited  instead  to  form  one  of  a  select  party  at  cards 
which  had  been  gotten  up  for  the  occasion. 

And  that  night,  after  the  farewells  had  been  said,  and 
she  had  gone  into  the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  Sallie 
Custis  gave  herself  over  to  the  thought  that  was  fore- 
most in  her  heart — whom  did  she  love,  the  one  who  had 
been  her  playmate  and  friend  from  early  childhood,  or 
the  other,  whom  she  had  known  little  more  than  six 
years?  Opening  up  her  window,  she  looked  out  upon 
the  moonlit  city  and  under  its  mellowing  influence  com- 
menced such  a  heart-searching  as  she  had  never  made  be- 
fore. She  passed  before  her  in  review  the  long  years  of 
her  acquaintance  with  Carl  Brett.  How  as  children 
they  had  played,  romped,  gone  to  school  and  grown  up 
together.  How  as  a  boy  of  sixteen  she  had  made  him 


114  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

her  hero  and  believed  that  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  >as 
handsome  as  any  knight  of  old  and  accomplished  in  all 
things.  As  she  had  grown  older  there  had  come  over 
her  a  perception  that  even  the  hero  of  her  girlhood 
dreams  had  his  faults,  and  these,  too,  of  no  small 
dimensions. 

And  yet  now  had  come  to  her  mind  other  considera- 
tions that  hitherto  had  been  strangers  to  her.  She 
found  herself  weighing  in  the  balance  his  social  posi- 
tion, the  friendship  of  long  standing  existing  between 
her  family  and  his,  and  finally  the  prophecy  that  she 
heard  on  all  sides  that  there  were  but  few  men  in  Vir- 
ginia with  more  brilliant  prospects  than  Carl  Brett. 
And  why  should  she  not  accept  him?  He  was  brainy, 
handsome  and  ambitious,  lie  possessed  high  social  po- 
sition, wealth  and  education,  and  the  match,  if  one  were 
made,  would  be  warmly  welcomed  in  her  own  family  as 
well  as  in  his.  She  had  always  been  fond  of  him,  there 
was  no  denying  that.  Then  why  did  she  hesitate  ?  Only 
because  of  the  other  one  that  had  come  into  her  life  but 
six  short  years  before.  Unconsciously  he  had  come 
nearer  to  her  than  she  had  ever  dreamed  he  would  at  the 
start.  At  the  threshold  of  their  acquaintance  she  had 
felt  only  sympathy  for  him,  perhaps  it  might  be  termed 
pity,  on  account  of  the  very  absence  in  his  own  life 
of  all  those  things  which  made  her  own  worth  living. 
While  Brett  had  always  had  the  role  of  an  invited  guest 
at  the  banquet  of  life,  Burton  seemed  ever  like  one 
destined  to  remain  unbidden  to  the  feast.  While  she 
knew  life  in  its  many  and  most  attractive  forms,  he 
knew  it  in  only  one,  and  that  its  hardest.  She  was  the 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  CABIN  JOHN'S      115 

child  of  the  aristocracy,  he  the  son  of  the  people. 
Harder  for  her  perhaps  than  ail  else  was  the  conviction 
in  her  mind,  that  none  save  herself,  was  willing  to  ac- 
cept Burton  at  his  real  value.  Until  the  day  should 
arrive,  when  he  should  come  into  his  own,  she  knew  that 
her  family  would  never  consent  to  their  union.  For  the 
present  she  could  only  hope  that  the  future  might  hold 
in  store  that  which  would  make  it  possible  for  them  to 
be  united. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN 

IT  lacked  but  an  hour  of  midnight  on  a  warm  July 
night,  in  the  year  1845.  Just  at  that  hour,  as  the  moon 
rose  over  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  there  might  have 
been  heard  the  steady  tramp  of  soldiers  journeying 
down  Canal  Street  toward  the  transport  which  lay  wait- 
ing for  them  on  the  levee.  It  was  the  Fourth  Infantry, 
under  orders  to  proceed  to  Corpus  Christi,  there  to  be 
in  readiness  to  take  part  in  the  conflict  with  Mexico 
which  every  one  saw  was  approaching. 

As  the  veteran  troops  marched  along,  the  bayonets 
glistening  in  the  yellow  light  looked  grim  and  forbid- 
ding. The  deep  shadows  on  the  side  of  the  street,  the 
bright  moonlight  on  the  other,  and  the  solemn  quiet  of 
a  sleeping  city  formed  a  scene  not  easily  forgotten. 
Among  those  marching  figures  was  Lieutenant  Burton, 
still  attached  to  Company  B  of  the  4th  Infantry  as  sec- 
ond lieutenant.  He  was  not  destined,  however,  to  take 
up  at  once  the  life  of  a  soldier,  for  after  disembark- 
ing at  Corpus  Christi  he  was  sent  into  winter  quar- 
ters, there  to  wait  for  the  opening  of  actual  warfare. 
Even  the  oldest  officers  had  never  seen  so  many  soldiers 
together  as  were  assembled  at  Corpus  Christi  during 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN  111 

the  fall  and  winter  of  '45-6.  On  the  younger  officers  the 
meeting  of  the  regiments  there  made  a  most  profound 
impression.  Various  amusements  were  improvised  for 
the  entertainment  of  the  troops,  and  among  these  the 
theater  was  the  favorite  of  them  all.  Here  one  evening 
during  the  winter  some  of  the  younger  officers  gave  a 
most  amusing  presentation  of  Othello.  Generals  Worth, 
Taylor  and  Twiggs  graced  the  occasion  by  their  pres- 
ence, and  there  was  a  large  audience  assembled.  Bur- 
ton's classmate,  "Dad"  Rankin,  took  the  part  of 
Othello,  and  it  was  originally  planned  that  the  former 
should  essay  the  role  of  Desdemona.  "Pete"  Over- 
street  had  been  slated  for  Desdemona,  but  his  height  of 
six  feet  two  inches  induced  the  manager  of  the  enter- 
tainment to  substitute  Burton  in  his  stead.  After  two 
rehearsals  Rankin  refused  to  play  Othello  to  Burton's 
Desdemona,  on  the  ground  that  the  latter's  impersona- 
tion of  the  part  was  a  travesty  on  fair  womanhood.  So 
the  officers  chipped  in,  and,  to  Burton's  great  relief, 
sent  to  New  Orleans  for  a  professional,  whose  sex  and 
experience  were  more  fitting  for  the  part. 

About  this  time  Burton  was  appointed  regimental 
quartermaster.  In  this  connection  he  frequently  picked 
up  for  a  song  many  wild  horses,  which  roamed  the  coun- 
try roundabout.  He  soon  became  known  all  over  the 
camp  as  the  most  remarkable  bronco-buster  in  the  army 
assembled  there.  It  was  about  this  time,  too,  that  he 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  half  a  dozen  horses  that  he 
had  acquired  in  his  official  capacity  as  quartermaster 
for  the  regiment.  He  duly  reported  this  loss  to  the 
general  commanding.  Some  one  questioned  General 


118  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Taylor  in  regard  to  this  matter,  and  that  veteran  offi- 
cer observed  in  a  manner  unusually  facetious  for  him : 
"Yes,  I  understand  that  Lieutenant  Burton  has  lost 
four  or  five  dollars'  worth  of  horses  recently." 

This  was  told  around  the  camp  and  provoked  many  a 
laugh  at  Burton's  expense.  But  the  days  of  peace  for 
those  in  the  camp  at  Corpus  Christi  were  numbered. 
On  the  9th  of  March,  1846,  the  bugles  of  the  line 
sounded  the  assembly,  and  Taylor  put  his  army  in  mo- 
tion by  easy  stages  for  the  line  of  the  Rio  Grande.  Of 
what  occurred  there  Burton  told  in  a  letter  addressed 
to  a  certain  fair  friend  of  his  at  Vaucluse.  It  was  writ- 
ten on  the  10th  of  May,  1846,  from  the  battlefield  of 
Resaca  de  la  Palma,  and  read  as  follows : 

MY  DEAR  Miss  SALLIE:  As  all  the  other  military 
lights  are  sending  in  reports  of  their  prowess  in  battle, 
I  somehow  feel  a  yearning  desire  to  send  in  mine.  I 
have  just  been  through  my  first  two  battles.  Before  the 
next  one  is  fought  it  is  pleasant,  while  still  alive,  to 
write  and  tell  you  about  them.  I  am  writing  this  in  my 
tent  by  candlelight.  Overhead  the  stars  are  peaceful, 
and  everything  is  quiet.  You  would  never  imagine  from 
an  inspection  of  our  camp  that  we  had  gone  through 
a  battle  to-day.  But  over  in  the  hospital  that  has  been 
established  here  on  the  field,  is  the  sad  evidence  of  it 
all.  The  Mexican  commander,  Ampudia,  calls  us  the 
"barbarians  of  the  North,"  and,  owing  to  the  absence 
of  barbers  here,  we  certainly  look  the  part.  We  ca'll 
the  battle  that  was  fought  yesterday  "Palo  Alto,"  and 
the  one  of  to-day  "Resaca  de  la  Palma."  As  perhaps 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN  119 

you  know,  Cadmus  Wilcox,  Sidney  Smith,  Jenks  Bea-^ 
man  and  I  are  messmates,  and  great  times  we  have  had 
together  telling  each  other  how  this  campaign  should 
be  fought,  and  offering  bets  as  to  which  would  be  the 
first  to  run  before  the  enemy.  In  this  we  are  frequently 
joined  by  Carl  Brett  and  others  of  my  West  Point  class- 
mates who  are  with  the  army.  So  far  General  Taylor 
has  not  called  for  our  assistance  in  planning  his  cam- 
paign, but  each  of  us  has  a  different  and  entirely 
unique  plan  for  outgeneraling  the  "greasers."  When 
we  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  our  regimental  band  played 
"The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,"  and  I  wondered  if  there 
was  any  one  else  in  the  army  thinking  harder  about  her 
just  at  that  particular  moment  than  myself.  Next 
came  a  long  march,  and  our  first  night's  destination 
was  reached.  On  all  sides  the  white  tents  went  up,  and 
the  stores  were  piled  up  for  the  night.  The  picket  duty 
that  night  seemed  for  some  reason  considerably  less  like 
a  form  than  usual.  All  the  younger  officers  grew  a 
trifle  nervous  and  wondered  what  the  morrow  had  in 
store  for  them.  We  soon  began  to  catch  glimpses,  as 
well  as  gather  information  of  cavalry  movements  near- 
est to  the  Mexicans,  which  the  wise  men  of  the  army — 
and  there  are  many — say  betokens  a  force  of  the  ene- 
my not  far  away.  Reports  drifted  in  all  day  long  from 
various  sources  that  the  enemy  was  in  large  force  some- 
where in  the  vicinity,  and  in  a  peculiarly  fierce  fight- 
ing mood.  All  of  this,  of  course,  had  a  sobering  effect 
on  those  who  had  boasted  of  their  love  of  fighting. 

After  a  day  of  interminable  length,  came  twilight, 
and  the  bugle  sounded  the  welcome  "Halt."     The  can- 


120  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

non  was  parked  and  the  horses  watered  and  fed.  For  a 
time  each  busied  himself  with  his  own  duties.  Here  and 
there  you  could  see  men  going  for  water,  cutting  wood, 
starting  fires  and  building  camps.  As  the  fires  were 
lighted  the  cold  and  darkness  disappeared.  The  sparks 
shot  upward  through  the  darkness.  The  forest  was 
lighted  up  with  ghostly  lights  and  fantastic  shadows. 
There  were  dancing  lights  and  a  thousand  different 
calls.  Then,  with  supper  eaten  and  pipes  filled,  we  tried 
to  imagine  ourselves  in  the  most  delightful  mood  imag- 
inable. It  ended  in  failure,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  we  all 
felt  decidedly  solemn  and  wondered  if  that  night  was 
our  last  on  earth.  I  confess  that  I  did  not  sleep  much 
the  night  before  the  battle  of  Palo  Alto.  A  combina- 
tion of  howling  coyotes,  buzzing  mosquitoes  and  solemn 
thoughts  kept  me  awake.  But  I  had  plenty  of  com- 
pany. None  of  the  others  in  our  tent  slept  either,  but 
we  assured  one  another  the  next  morning  that  we  had 
slept  finely,  and  that  we  were  not  one  bit  nervous.  I 
suppose  each  of  us  thought  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 
Next  morning  the  order  came  for  the  regiment  to  ad- 
vance. The  way  we  followed  was  across  streams.  In 
the  distance  already  came  the  sound  of  the  sharp 
report  of  the  carbines  or  the  heavier  notes  of  the  "Bel- 
gian" and  "Enfield." 

We  went  through  the  dense  Mexican  chaparral  and 
came  out  upon  the  open  plains.  This  was  the  battlefield 
of  Palo  Alto. 

There  General  Taylor  formed  his  line  of  battle.  Per- 
haps your  father  may  be  interested  in  knowing  just  how 
the  troops  were  placed,  even  if  you  are  not.  The  right 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN 

wing  was  under  Twiggs,  who  commanded  the  Third  and 
Fourth  Regiments,  Ringgold's  battery  and  the  eighteen- 
pounders  under  Churchill.  The  Third  and  Fourth  In- 
fantry formed  a  separate  command  under  Garland. 
The  left  wing  was  commanded  by  Belknap.  In  addition 
to  the  troops  I  have  already  mentioned,  there  were  two 
squadrons  of  cavalry  in  the  field  under  command  of 
May  and  Kerr. 

The  field  of  battle  was  wonderfully  picturesque. 
Upon  its  level  surface  grew  the  scarlet  bloom,  the  Mexi- 
can poppy  and  the  indigo  plant.  Our  army,  after  fill- 
ing canteens  at  the  spring,  took  up  the  line  of  march 
along  the  open  plain,  here  a  mile  in  width,  and  moved 
to  within  seven  hundred  yards  of  the  Mexicans.  The 
battle  was  opened  by  a  Mexican  battery  on  the  right, 
firing  both  grape  and  round  shot. 

Then  there  was  a  halt,  and  Taylor  deployed  his  col- 
umns in  line,  the  two  eighteen-pounders  opening  the 
battle.  Ringgold  and  Duncan  advanced  with  their  bat- 
teries on  the  right  and  opened  fire.  The  fight  was 
mainly  an  artillery  battle. 

Arista,  the  Mexican  commander,  came  very  near 
being  outflanked  by  our  army.  Ringgold's  battery  and 
the  eighteen-pounders  were  pushed  toward  the  energy's 
left  flank,  supported  by  the  Fourth  Infantry  and  the 
Fourth  Brigade.  Once  the  Mexican  cavalry,  with  two 
pieces  of  artillery,  under  Torreon,  made  a  detour  of  our 
right  with  a  view  to  turning  it  and  capturing  the  wagon 
trains.  This  movement  was  defeated  by  the  Fifth  In- 
fantry and  two  pieces  of  artillery,  sent  just  at  the 
opportune  moment. 


122  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Mackintosh,  of  the  Fifth 
Infantry,  fired  a  quick  volley  which  emptied  many  a 
saddle.  The  Fourth  Infantry,  in  which  my  company  is 
enrolled,  supported  one  section  of  Rinergold's  battery 
in  advance  of  the  heavy  guns,  and  while  doina;  so,  we 
were  compelled  to  remain  exposed  to  fire  without  the  pos- 
sibility of  returning  it.  The  cannonade  continued  for 
an  hour  and  then  the  grass  in  front  of  Duncan's  bat- 
tery caught  fire,  which  with  the  heat  and  smoke, 
became  intense.  When  this  occurred,  the  eighteen- 
pounders,  Ringgold's  battery  and  the  Fourth  and  Fifth 
Regiments  advanced.  Then  came  a  glorious  charge  of 
May's  dragoons,  well  supported  by  the  Fourth  Infan- 
try, but  they  were  compelled  finally  to  fall  back.  It 
was  a  combat  largely  of  field  artillery.  Then  Ringgold 
was  struck  by  a  round  shot  and  carried  from  the  field  of 
battle  to  die.  Page,  too,  fell  soon  after. 

Once,  during  the  day,  owing  to  the  absence  of  my 
superior  company  officers,  I  found  myself  in  command 
of  the  company.  I  felt  keenly  the  tremendous  responsi- 
bility, for  there  fell  to  me  one  of  the  really  hard  tasks 
of  a  soldier — that  of  standing  under  fire  without  the 
privilege  of  returning  it. 

The  fight  continued  until  night,  when  the  Mexicans 
retired,  leaving  the  field  in  the  possession  of  Taylor. 
During  the  night  Arista  fell  back  to  a  strong  position 
or.  the  dried  bit  of  stream  called  "Resaca  de  la  Palma." 
And  now,  I  suppose,  like  all  women,  you  are  curious  to 
know  how  a  man  feels  under  fire.  Well,  I  can  only  speak 
for  myself,  and  in  this  wise : 

There  is  nothing  that  produces  so  profound  an  im- 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN 

pression  as  a  real  battle — nothing  that  so  stirs  and 
tests  the  soul  within  one,  which  so  expands  and  strains 
the  functions  of  sensation,  so  awakens  all  the  depths  of 
one's  nature.  There  is  nothing  which  so  stimulates 
even  the  humblest  soldier  to  deeds  of  heroism  and  self- 
sacrifice.  Nothing  which  so  surcharges  and  permeates 
one's  receptive  faculties,  and  so  employs  and  absorbs  all 
the  powers  of  one's  mind  and  body.  Human  nature 
under  such  circumstances  finds  it  difficult  to  sustain 
this  greatest  strain  and  test. 

But  I  must  continue  my  story.  After  Palo  Alto, 
our  troops  slept  upon  the  battlefield,  only  to  awaken  on 
the  morrow  to  take  up  the  battle  of  the  previous  day. 

This  we  called  the  battle  of  Resaca  de  la  Palma.  The 
Mexicans  had  formed  for  battle  on  the  banks  of  a  suc- 
cession of  ponds.  They  had  thrown  up  dead  trees  and 
brush  in  their  front  and  had  placed  their  artillery  to 
cover  the  approaches  and  open  places.  I  was  in  the 
right  when  the  order  for  the  whole  army  to  advance 
was  given,  and  I  led  my  company  (of  which  I  was  then 
in  command,  owing  to  the  absence  of  Captain  McCall, 
my  company  commander)  through  the  thicket,  wherever 
a  cleared  space  could  be  found,  taking  advantage  of 
any  protected  spot,  that  would  expedite  our  progress 
toward  the  enemy.  At  last  I  got  pretty  close  up,  with- 
out knowing  it.  The  balls  began  to  whistle  over  my 
head,  cutting  the  chaparral  here  and  there.  As  I  could 
not  see  the  enemy,  I  concluded  that  I  would  not  be  court- 
martialed  if  I  ordered  my  men  to  lie  down,  provided  I 
did  not  follow  my  natural  inclination  and  do  the  same 
myself.  I  gave  this  order,  and  it  was  remarkable  how 


124  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

quickly  the  troops  obeyed  it.  Soon  after  this  the  Mexi- 
cans commenced  to  give  way  all  along  the  line,  and  it 
occurred  to  me  that  this  was  the  proper  psychological 
moment  for  me  to  greatly  distinguish  myself.  So, 
finding  a  clear  spot  in  front  of  us,  separating  two 
ponds,  where  could  be  seen  a  few  Mexican  soldiers,  I 
fearlessly  ordered  my  men  to  charge.  To  my  disap- 
pointment, there  was  no  resistance,  and  we  rounded  up  a 
Mexican  colonel,  who  had  been  wounded,  together  with 
a  few  teamsters  and  soldiers.  You  have  no  idea  the 
pleasure  it  gave  me,  at  that  moment,  to  think  that  I  had 
captured  a  lot  of  prisoners.  I  think  my  great  hobby 
in  war,  if  there  ever  comes  another,  is  to  be  the  taking 
of  prisoners.  But  just  as  I  was  getting  ready  to 
send  my  extraordinary  capture,  under  escort,  to  the 
rear,  I  discovered,  to  my  deep  chagrin,  that  the  ground 
had  already  been  charged  over  by  our  men.  Thus  my 
first  experience  in  independent  command  of  a  large  body 
of  men  (sixty  all  told)  ended  in  humiliation.  Anyway, 
I  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  my  intentions 
were  good,  even  if  the  results  were  hardly  commensurate 
with  the  desires  and  ambition  of  the  commander. 

But  now  must  come  a  note  of  sadness  in  this  story  of 
battle.  You  remember  my  roommate,  Chadbourne,  to 
whom  I  introduced  you  commencement  week,  at  the 
Point.  He  fell,  mortally  wounded,  on  foreign  soil.  He 
died  as  a  soldier  loves  to  die,  on  the  field  of  battle.  No 
man  was  more  beloved  than  he  at  the  Academy.  Ever 
amiable  and  pure  in  heart,  he  was  truly  a  man  in  whom 
there  was  no  guile.  He  lay  on  the  battlefield  until 
evening,  when  for  the  first  time  we  had  leisure  to  attend 


GETTING  READY  FOR  THE  CAMPAIGN  125 

to  our  dead  and  wounded.  He  was  given  a  soldier's 
burial  the  next  evening,  just  at  dusk.  The  hour  and  the 
burial  itself,  was  most  impressive.  The  sun  had  just 
set;  the  clouds,  piled  in  pyramids,  were  tinged  with 
golden  light;  the  pale  moon  in  the  east,  the  flashes  of 
lightning  in  the  north.  He  was  buried  about  a  mile 
from  the  camp,  on  a  beautiful  bluff.  The  service  of  the 
dead  was  read  by  the  light  of  a  torch.  Three  volleys 
were  fired  over  the  grave.  The  escort  wheeled  into  col- 
umn, and  then  left  him  to  that  sleep  that  knows  no 
awakening.  Nothing  that  has  occurred  since  I  bade 
you  good-by  in  Washington  has  affected  me  so  much 
as  poor  Chadbourne's  death.  But  he  died  as  a  soldier 
loves  to  die,  on  the  field  while  in  the  line  of  his  duty. 

I  must  close  and  attend  to  my  routine  work,  which 
still  goes  on.  Please  write  soon,  for  letters  are  the 
brightest  spots  in  a  soldier's  existence. 

Always  yours, 

SAM'L  BURTON. 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOLDIER 

THE  passing  of  poor  Chadbourne,  at  Resaca  de  la 
Palma,  in  May,  1846,  was  not  the  only  death  of  a  class- 
mate that  Burton  was  called  upon  to  mourn  during  the 
Mexican  War.  On  May  18th  of  the  same  year,  Stevens 
of  the  "Rifles"  was  drowned  while  crossing  the  Rio 
Grande.  Hazlitt  was  killed  at  Monterey  four  months 
later,  while  Johnston  fell  at  Contreras  on  the  9th  of 
August  in  '47. 

But  there  was  little  time  to  mourn  for  the  dead.  Soon 
after,  in  rapid  succession,  came  uninterrupted  ric- 
tories  for  the  American  army.  One  of  the  earliest  of 
these  was  Monterey.  Here  Twiggs'  division,  to  which 
Burton  belonged,  was  stationed  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
city.  After  days  of  reconnoitering,  Taylor  attacked, 
on  the  21st  of  September,  1846.  The  Fourth  Infantry 
was  in  Garland's  brigade  of  regulars,  on  the  extreme 
luf  t  of  the  line.  Two  companies  of  the  Fourth  advanced 
to  storm  a  fortification,  in  which  Lieutenants  Hoskins 
and  Woods,  both  messmates  of  Burton's,  fell  mortally 
wounded.  When  the  Fourth  Infantry  was  ordered  to 
support  the  artillerists,  while  they  were  intrenching, 
Burton  was  directed  to  remain  in  charge  of  the  camp 

126 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOLDIER  127 

and  public  property  during  the  regiment's  absence. 
They  were  away  the  entire  night  and  in  the  morning  fire 
was  opened  on  both  sides  with  great  fury.  Though 
Burton,  as  regimental  quartermaster,  was  exempt  from 
duty  on  the  firing  line,  the  spirit  of  the  combat  which  he 
found  had  possession  of  him  acted  like  a  fever,  and  he 
soon  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  charge.  The  regi- 
ment was  now  directly  under  the  fire  of  the  batteries  of 
the  Block  Fort  and  of  the  musketry  at  the  same  time. 
Nearly  one-third  of  the  troops  engaged  were  killed  or 
wounded  in  the  space  of  a  few  moments.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  fiery  ordeal,  for  the  young  soldier,  scarcely  three 
years  out  of  West  Point.  But  a  more  severe  test  than 
even  this  was  yet  to  be  his.  While  advancing  slowly 
toward  the  Plaza,  under  an  incessant,  and  at  times 
murderous,  fire  from  the  Mexican  troops  located  on  the 
flat  adobe  roofs  of  the  houses,  behind  parapets  of 
sand-bags,  it  was  discovered  that  the  ammunition  was 
growing  perilously  low.  At  this  crisis  in  the  affairs, 
General  Garland  (the  brigade  commander)  expressed 
a  wish  to  get  a  message  back  to  General  Taylor,  to  the 
effect  that  the  ammunition  was  low  and  that  he  must 
have  more  sent  him  immediately,  or  be  otherwise  rein- 
forced. Deeming  the  errand  too  perilous  to  order  any 
one  to  do  it,  he  called  for  volunteers.  Instantly  Lieu- 
tenant Burton,  who  stood  near,  stepped  forward  and 
offered  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  message  to  "Fort  Number 
One,"  a  mile  back  outside  of  the  city,  where  Taylor  had 
his  headquarters.  The  offer  was  accepted,  and  he  was 
told  to  start  at  once.  Taking  his  horse  to  the  shelter 
of  a  near-by  house,  he  adjusted  himself  "Comanche 


128  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

fashion"  on  the  side  of  his  horse  farthest  from  the 
enemy,  with  only  one  foot  holding  to  the  cantle  of  the 
saddle,  and  one  arm  over  the  neck  of  the  horse,  catching 
at  his  mane.  All  being  ready,  he  plunged  his  spurs  into 
his  horse,  and  dashed  out  on  a  dead  run.  Colonel  Gar- 
land said  of  him,  as  he  watched  him  dash  away  to  what 
seemed  almost  certain  death,  'There  goes  a  man  of 
fire."  Now,  if  ever,  would  come  into  full  play  that  skill 
in  horsemanship,  which  had  won  him  victory  on  another 
occasion,  more  peaceful  than  the  one  in  which  he  was 
now  engaged.  He  knew  that  in  volunteering  for  such  a 
ride  he  was  taking  his  life  in  his  hands,  but,  like  the 
true  soldier  that  he  was,  he  regarded  it  all  as  part  of 
the  fortunes  of  war.  The  moment  he  emerged  from 
cover  he  found  himself  under  a  sweeping  artillery  and 
musketry  fire  from  forts  and  houses.  At  the  street 
crossings  the  fire  was  particularly  severe,  and  these  he 
crossed  like  a  streak  of  lightning.  It  would  have  re- 
quired a  marvelous  command  of  the  steed  that  bore  him 
to  have  made  the  trip  in  safety  in  such  manner,  even 
without  the  accompaniment  of  the  grim  messengers  of 
war.  But  then,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  best 
horseman  in  Taylor's  army  was  the  rider  of  that  horse 
as  it  passed  unscathed  through  a  veritable  storm  of 
missiles. 

Once,  on  the  way,  he  jumped  an  earth  wall  four  feet 
high,  making  the  leap  with  ease.  But  at  last  the  fort 
was  reached  in  safety  and  the  order  to  send  the  needed 
ammunition  was  given.  But  before  it  had  fairly  started, 
the  troops  came  pouring  back.  With  fine  gallantry, 
they  had  fought  their  way  into  a  spot  where  they  found 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOLDIER  129 

they  could  not  stay.  As  Burton  described  it,  some  time 
later,  to  his  Uncle  "Tom"  Carter,  the  regiment  found 
itself,  on  this  particular  occasion,  like  the  man  who 
caught  a  wild  boar.  When  friends  came  up  to  congrat- 
ulate him,  they  found  him  with  his  two  hands  firmly 
grasping  the  hind  legs  of  the  boar.  In  response  to 
their  congratulations,  he  replied:  "Yes,  I  did  pretty 
well  to  catch  him,  but  I'd  take  it  mighty  kindly  if  some 
of  you  fellows  would  only  help  me  let  him  go." 

But  that  night  ended  the  fighting.  In  the  camps,  aft- 
er the  battle,  Burton's  exploit  in  his  mad  ride  through 
the  streets  of  Monterey  for  ammunition,  was  the  talk 
not  only  of  the  Fourth  Infantry,  but  of  the  other  regi- 
ments as  well,  to  whom  the  story  had  now  been  passed 
on  from  man  to  man.  And  his  reward  in  this  instance 
was  swift.  Through  the  death  of  Lieutenant  Hoskins, 
the  regiment  had  lost  its  adjutant,  and  Burton  was  ap- 
pointed in  his  place.  From  this  time  on,  he  performed 
the  duties  of  that  office  as  well  as  that  of  regimental 
quartermaster. 

And  so  the  campaign  progressed,  one  American  vic- 
tory following  another.  While  always  doing  his  full 
duty,  it  was  only  at  "San  Cosme  Gate,"  just  inside 
the  walls  of  Mexico,  that  Burton  particularly  distin- 
guished himself.  Here  he  conducted  a  small  but  ef- 
fective independent  movement  of  a  small  body  of 
volunteer  troops.  This  movement  was  stopped  at  a 
cross-road,  which  the  enemy  defended  from  behind  a 
breastwork  and  from  the  roof  of  a  house  in  the  rear. 
While  skirmishing  was  going  on  in  front,  Burton 
made  a  skillful  reconnoisance  which  ended  in  his  taking 


130  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

half  a  dozen  men,  and  leading  them  around  on  a  run  to 
the  rear  of  this  building.  There  he  found  Captain 
Brooks  of  the  artillery,  who  at  once,  waiving  all  ques- 
tions of  rank,  followed  him  with  his  own  company. 
After  a  skirmish,  it  was  found  that  the  position  taken 
was  too  advanced  and  it  was  given  up.  Later  in  the  day, 
through  a  somewhat  more  independent  reconnoitering, 
which  was  fast  becoming  a  favorable  pastime  with  him, 
Burton  discovered  a  church,  off  to  the  south  of  the 
road,  the  belfry  of  which  appeared  to  command  the 
ground  back  of  San  Cosme.  Securing  the  co-operation 
of  an  officer  of  the  voltigeurs,  with  a  mountain  howitzer 
and  men  to  work  it,  the  gun  was,  after  much  effort, 
taken  to  pieces,  and  afterward  placed  in  position  in  the 
belfry  of  the  old  San  Cosme  Church.  Then  shots  were 
dropped  in  upon  the  enemy,  creating  great  confusion. 
The  effect  of  this  choice  bit  of  independent  strategy  on 
Burton's  part  was  so  marked  that  General  Worth  sent 
Lieutenant  Pemberton  (afterward  Lieutenant-General 
of  the  Confederate  Army,  commanding  at  Vicksburg) 
to  bring  the  youthful  strategist  to  him,  that  he  might 
congratulate  him  in  person  for  his  effective  work. 
"That  was  fine  work  of  yours,  sir,  every  shot  told," 
was  the  commander's  comment.  At  Molino  del  Rey 
Burton  won  his  brevets  for  bravery.  At  this  battle 
Burton  particularly  distinguished  himself.  He  was 
everywhere  on  the  field,  fighting  hand  to  hand  with  the 
enemy,  always  cool,  swift  and  unconcerned.  His  still 
more  spectacular  feat  had  brought  him  no  brevet, 
though  it  had  made  him  solid  with  his  men. 

Those  days  in  Mexico  were  great  days  for  Burton. 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  SOLDIER  131 

It  was  the  school-room  for  his  larger  and  fuller  work. 
Here  he  had  opportunity  to  observe  two  commanders  of 
great  ability,  at  work  in  actual  war.  He  learned  that  it 
was  possible  for  an  army  to  cut  loose  from  its  base  of 
supplies.  He  saw  the  advantage  of  flank  movements,  as 
shown  by  Taylor's  maneuvers  at  Monterey.  He  ap- 
preciated the  value  of  co-operation  of  the  army  and 
navy,  as  exemplified  at  Vera  Cruz.  He  saw  at  Cerro 
Gordo  that  prisoners  could  be  disposed  of  by  paroling. 
At  Cherubusco  he  learned  to  appreciate  the  special 
value  of  artillery  and  cavalry.  He  learned  that  sim- 
plicity, army  regulations  and  discipline  are  potent  fac- 
tors. He  learned  also  the  value  of  co-operation  between 
armies.  There,  too,  he  came  in  contact  with  many  offi- 
cers, that  afterward  became  famous  in  the  far  greater 
conflict  that  was  to  come. 

At  Contreras  he  fought  with  Chas.  F.  Smith,  his  old 
commandant  in  the  Academy,  who  was  the  grandest 
figure  of  that  day's  fight,  and  where  Johnston,  a  much- 
beloved  classmate,  was  killed.  Then  came  Vera  Cruz, 
with  its  dramatic  capture  by  the  army,  under  the  invin- 
cible Scott,  aided  by  the  navy  working  under  Perry, 
Tatnall  and  Porter. 

Here  he  commenced  to  hear  much  of  the  engineer 
officers,  Robert  E.  Lee,  Geo.  B.  McClellan  and  P.  G.  T. 
Beauregard,  and  some  little  of  others. 

Later  came  Cerro  Gordo,  that  perfect  battle  fought 
by  the  regulars  under  Scott,  Worth,  Twiggs  and  Quit- 
man,  aided  by  the  cavalry  under  Harney. 

Lastly,  came  Molino  Del  Rey,  Chapultepec  and  the 
triumphant  entry  into  the  halls  of  the  Montezuma. 


132  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

When  the  time  came  for  rewards,  Burton  received 
his  commission  as  First  Lieutenant,  while  Brett  was 
given  that  of  Captain,  in  the  regular  army.  Burton's 
brother  officers  were  not  at  all  pleased  by  this,  and 
ascribed  it  to  influence  at  home.  At  any  rate,  from  that 
hour  dated  the  coolness  which  sprang  up  between  the 
young  officers,  which  in  time  served  to  break  forever  the 
friendship  of  their  Academy  days.  In  its  place  there 
ultimately  came  positive  dislike  and  distrust.  However 
disappointing  the  matter  of  promotion  may  have  been 
to  Burton,  he  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  superior 
officers  when  they  came  to  send  in  their  reports  of  the 
campaign.  He  was  mentioned  honorably  in  that  of  his 
division  commander,  General  Worth;  by  his  brigade 
commander,  Col.  Garland,  and  by  his  regimental  com- 
mander, Major  Francis  Lee,  and  by  his  company  officer, 
Captain  Horace  Brooks.  So,  taken  all  in  all,  it  might 
truthfully  be  said  that  none  of  the  officers  of  his  own 
age — aside  from  a  very  few  among  the  engineers — at- 
tracted more  attention  and  behaved  with  more  real 
credit  to  themselves,  than  did  Samuel  Burton,  of  the 
West  Point  class  of  '43. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CUPID  AND  MA»S 

THE  scene  shifts  once  more  to  the  banks  of  the  Ohio 
and  the  picturesque  village  of  Maysville.  The  late  fall 
of  1848  witnessed  the  return  of  Samuel  Burton  from 
the  Mexican  battlefields,  at  the  close  of  a  war  where 
the  American  troops  had  acquitted  themselves  every- 
where with  uniform  brilliancy.  His  record  during  that 
marvelous  series  of  battles,  in  all  of  which  he  had  par- 
ticipated save  that  of  Buena  Vista,  had  been  most  cred- 
itable. He  had  entered  the  campaign  a  brevet  second 
lieutenant,  fresh  from  West  Point,  and  he  left  it  a  first 
lieutenant  and  a  veteran  of  a  two  years'  campaign  on 
foreign  soil.  He  had  obtained  during  this  time  the  con- 
fidence of  his  superiors,  the  respect  of  his  brother  offi- 
cers and  the  enthusiastic  devotion  of  the  men  in  his  com- 
mand. This  performance  of  the  American  army  of  in- 
vasion had  been  so  magnified  by  the  press  of  the  coun- 
try, that  each  participant  in  its  campaigns  had  become, 
as  it  were,  a  hero.  To  no  one  did  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment apply  more  directly  than  it  did  to  Lieutenant 
Burton,  on  his  return  home  on  a  furlough  in  the  late 
fall  of  1848.  To  his  surprise,  on  his  return  to  his  na- 
tive heath  he  found  himself  lionized  beyond  what  a 

133 


134  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

modest  man  cares  to  endure.  Wliile  pleased  with  the 
freely  expressed  gratification  felt  by  his  parents  at  his 
excellent  record,  he  nevertheless  found  the  fulsome  at- 
tention of  his  one-time  neighbors  and  friends  exceed- 
ingly distasteful  to  him. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  movements  of  the 
youthful  warrior  were  entirely  a  matter  of  conjecture 
at  this  time,  to  at  least  one  member  of  the  household  at 
Vaucluse.  The  facilities  afforded  by  the  national  gov- 
ernment for  communication  between  the  army  in  the 
field  and  the  friends  at  home  had  been  made  such  good 
use  of  by  at  least  two  personages,  that  a  visit  by  Sallie 
Custis  to  her  kinsfolk  at  Maysville  had  been  so  well 
timed,  that  the  month  of  November,  1848,  found  her 
within  fifty  miles  of  Lieutenant  Burton.  It  must  not  be 
inferred  that  the  latter  was  wanting  in  filial  affection, 
because  in  this  particular  instance  he  hastened  off  for  a 
visit  to  his  Uncle  Tom  Carter,  at  the  close  of  a  two 
weeks'  sojourn  in  his  old  home. 

So  it  happened  that  one  November  afternoon,  as  the 
Daniel  Boone  neared  the  familiar  wharf  at  Maysville, 
Burton  was  not  stunned  with  surprise  to  see  in  a  car- 
riage not  far  from  the  landing,  seated  there  with  his 
cousin,  and  waving  her  handkerchief  to  him,  the  one  who 
had  been  so  constantly  in  his  thoughts  during  his  days 
and  nights  on  the  battlefield.  He  was,  however,  com- 
pletely overwhelmed  with  the  extraordinary  warmth  and 
enthusiasm  of  his  reception  at  the  hands  of  the  good 
citizens  of  Maysville.  The  residents  of  that  patriotic 
community  seemed  determined  to  celebrate  on  this  occa- 
sion the  signal  success  of  American  arms  on  foreign 


CUPID  AND  MARS  135 

soil.  No  matter  how  humble  his  own  part  in  the  affair, 
he  did  personify  to  their  minds  those  victories  which 
had  stirred  the  nation  to  its  very  remotest  corners.  So 
it  was  that  this  modest  subaltern  in  the  recent  conflict 
found  himself  the  recipient  of  honors  which  would  not 
have  been  unfitting  for  Scott  or  Taylor  themselves. 
The  Academy  boys  were  out  in  full  force,  proud  to 
think  that  the  one  in  whose  honor  all  this  was,  had  been 
only  nine  years  before  one  of  their  own  number.  The 
village  officials  were  there,  accompanied  by  the  inevitable 
band,  with  its  rendering  of  popular  airs.  In  fact,  the 
whole  community  had  turned  out  en  masse  to  welcome  in 
that  whole-hearted  Kentucky  fashion,  a  youthful  soldier 
who  was  a  nephew  of  one  of  their  most  respected  towns- 
men, and  who  had  at  one  time  passed  a  portion  of  his 
school  days  in  their  midst.  No  wonder  that  in  the  face 
of  the  tooting  of  steamer  whistles,  the  strains  of  music, 
and  the  cheering  of  the  assembled  multitude,  the  young 
lieutenant  felt,  for  the  moment,  a  most  unsoldierly  in- 
clination to  retreat.  As  the  crowd  caught  sight  of  this 
slight,  modest  young  man  in  army  blue,  they  found  some 
difficulty  in  associating  him  with  the  same  person  who 
had  made  that  daredevil  ride  for  ammunition  at  Monte- 
rey and  had  mounted  the  cannon  in  the  belfry  tower  at 
San  Cosme  Church  at  Belen  Gate. 

Of  course,  the  first  to  greet  him  as  he  stepped  off  the 
steamer,  was  his  uncle,  who  grasped  him  by  the  hand 
and  fairly  hugged  him  in  the  exuberance  of  his  feelings. 
Then,  accompanied  by  the  official  dignitaries  of  the  oc- 
casion, he  was  escorted,  amid  the  cheers  of  the  others, 
to  the  carriage  where  Julia  Carter  and  Sallie  Custis  sat 


136  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

waiting  for  him.  There  was  only  time  for  a  grasp  of 
the  hand  and  a  word  of  greeting,  until  Tom  Carter 
seized  the  reins  and  drove  them  away  through  the  crowd 
that  encircled  them  on  all  sides,  to  his  own  home. 

How  often  during  the  past  two  years  had  he  pictured 
this  meeting  with  Sallie  Custis.  He  had  dreamed  of  it 
by  night  and  by  day,  whether  in  the  barracks  at  Corpus 
Christi,  or  on  the  battlefield  in  a  foreign  land.  And 
how  wholly  different  it  had  been  from  what  he  had 
planned.  For  the  moment  he  was  almost  incensed  at 
his  friends  for  having  thus  shattered  one  of  his  best- 
beloved  day-dreams.  And  yet,  did  he  but  know  it,  the 
whole  affair  was  but  a  highly  realistic  bit  of  scene- 
painting,  in  a  drama  which  had  been  passing  before  the 
eyes  of  Sallie  Custis  ever  since  the  day  he  had  first 
crossed  her  path  here  in  Maysville,  exactly  nine  years 
before.  It  was  a  love  drama,  in  which  another  act  must 
soon  be  played. 

The  days  that  followed  were  ones  of  unalloyed  enjoy- 
ment for  the  soldier  visitor.  Hours  spent  with  his 
uncle,  calls  upon  Professor  Dolbier,  brief  visits  with 
former  schoolmates,  forced  attendance  upon  various 
social  functions  arranged  in  his  honor,  and  last  but 
not  least  long  rides  and  walks  with  Sallie  Custis,  filled 
every  moment  of  his  time. 

One  afternoon  near  the  close  of  his  visit  he  invited 
her — with  considerable  conscious  embarrassment — to 
accompany  him  on  a  ride  to  "Indian  Rock."  To  this  she 
gave  a  ready  assent.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  vis- 
ited that  spot  since  the  memorable  occasion  when  as  boy 
and  girl  they  had  gone  there,  and  had  had  the  talk 


CUPID  AND  MARS  137 

which  resulted  in  the  formation  of  the  resolution  on  his 
part  to  try  and  get  the  appointment  to  West  Point. 
He  had  purposely  postponed  the  visit  to  "Indian  Rock" 
until  the  very  close  of  his  visit  at  Maysville.  And  now 
that  time  had  come.  An  hour  later  found  them  sitting 
together  once  more  on  the  very  spot  where  nine  years 
before  they  had  sat  and  talked  of  the  separation  that 
was  then  before  them.  Much  of  great  moment  had  hap- 
pened in  the  intervening  time.  The  passing  of  the  years 
had  wrought  many  wondrous  changes  for  him.  He  was 
no  longer  the  aimless  and  hopeless  country  lad  of  that 
first  period  of  her  acquaintance.  He  had  reached  man's 
estate  and  with  it  he  had  attained  much  that  was  worth 
while.  He  had,  by  his  own  unaided  efforts,  mastered  a 
profession.  In  the  sterner  school  of  experience  he  had 
been  tried  thoroughly  and  had  proved  that  he  possessed 
the  qualities  of  which  heroes  are  made.  He  had  won  for 
himself  social  position  and  a  name.  He  could  now  meet 
this  fair  daughter  of  a  proud  Virginia  family  on  a 
plane  of  cqualit}'.  He  had  made  good,  and  even  a  cyn- 
ical world  had  publicly  recognized  it.  But  to-day  his 
mind  gave  little  heed  to  the  triumph  of  a  career  which 
was  at  best  only  half  commenced.  His  thoughts  were 
all  of  the  companion  of  his  ride  who,  on  her  part,  during 
these  years  had  passed  from  the  fair  promise  of  girl- 
hood to  the  full  bloom  of  perfect  womanhood. 

"Miss  Sallie,  do  you  remember  what  you  said  to  me 
that  last  afternoon  that  we  were  here,  just  before  you 
left  for  Vaucluse,  so  long  ago?" 

"We  said  a  good  many  things  then,  if  I  remember 
rightly." 


138  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

"Yes,  but  I  mean  in  regard  to  my  going  to  West 
Point  and  getting  an  education  and  the  opening  of  a 
career  for  myself.  Of  course,  you  were  a  very  young 
girl  at  that  time,  and  you  didn't  say  it  in  those  words, 
but  that  was  the  effect  of  it." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  perfectly." 

"Do  you  mind  my  telling  you  again  that  it  is  to  you  I 
owe  the  inspiration  which  gave  me  the  courage  and  am- 
bition to  make  the  effort  to  accomplish  all  those  things 
which  then  seemed  so  difficult  of  accomplishment  ?" 

The  color  mounted  to  Sallie  Custis*  cheeks  as  she 
caught  the  earnest  gaze  of  her  companion,  and  for  a 
moment  she  was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply.  But  he  did  not 
wait  for  her  to  speak.  His  face,  which  was  ordinarily 
somewhat  immobile  and  expressionless,  was  now  full  of 
animation  and  had  suddenly  become  transfigured  with  a 
light,  as  it  were,  from  within.  His  voice  lost  its  cus- 
tomary slowness  of  enunciation,  and  his  usual  hesita- 
tion of  speech  had  vanished  completely.  He  threw 
caution  to  the  winds,  and  plunged  into  that  pica  of  the 
heart  wherein  a  true  man  stakes  his  all. 

"Sallie,  you  gave  me  reason  to  hope  that  after- 
noon at  Cabin  John's  Bridge.  It  was  this  'hope' 
which  has  sustained  me  on  every  field  of  battle 
during  the  war  which  has  just  closed.  The  time 
has  come  when  I  must  lay  open  my  heart  to 
you  and  tell  you  again  what  I  told  you  then,  and 
more  that  I  have  longed  to  say  since  last  we  met.  For 
to-morrow  I  go  back  to  my  regiment,  which  will  soon 
take  up  quarters  in  California.  It  may  be  long  before 
I  can  see  you  again  and  if  I  wait  until  then  it  may  be 


CUPID  AND  MARS  139 

too  late.  I  don't  know  why  it  should  be  so,  but  the 
hardest  thing  in  the  world  for  me  to  do  is  the  thing  I 
have  longed  to  do  most,  and  that  is  to  tell  the  woman 
that  I  love,  the  story  of  that  love.  You  know  that  I 
have  loved  you  from  those  earliest  days,  when  in  the 
midst  of  your  own  carefree  life  of  pleasure  you  found 
time  to  sympathize  with  me  in  my  dull  round  af  daily 
tasks.  Boy  though  I  was,  I  worshiped  the  ground  that 
you  walked  on  and  would  have  counted  it  a  pleasure  just 
to  be  near  you,  so  that  I  could  see  and  speak  to  you 
sometimes.  Then  during  my  cadet  days  it  was  my  dream 
to  think  of  you  as  my  sweetheart,  though  I  never  dared 
hope  for  the  realization  of  that  dream.  I  have  in  my 
make-up  a  saving  sense  of  the  realities  of  life,  and  I 
never  allowed  myself  to  think  that  it  was  possible  to  win 
your  love,  until  the  day  when  Carl  Brett  and  I  battled 
for  supremacy  in  the  old  riding  academy  at  the  'Point.' 
That  day  something  seemed  to  say  to  me  that  the  prize 
for  which  we  both  rode  was  not  the  championship  of  the 
class,  or  even  of  the  Academy,  but  that  the  real  prize 
was  the  favor  of  one  girl.  It  seemed  to  me  then  that  we 
had  gone  back  to  the  middle  ages,  when  the  knights  used 
to  battle  together  for  the  gift  of  a  ribbon  from  the  hand 
of  some  fair  lady.  And  so  I  entered  the  contest  against 
one  whom  I  knew  had  been  a  sort  of  a  hero  to  you  since 
your  childhood  days,  and  I  won.  When  I  looked  into 
}rour  eyes  that  day,  when  you  offered  your  congratula- 
tions, I  saw  nothing  but  pride  in  my  victory,  and  I  took 
heart.  It  told  me  that  I  had  at  least  a  fair  field  before 
me.  Then  came  my  visit  to  you  at  Washington,  and 
there  my  courage  all  but  failed  me.  I  saw  how  different 


140  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

your  home,  life  and  surroundings  had  been  from  my 
own.  You  had  wealth  and  luxury  beyond  what  nvy  wild- 
est dreams  had  pictured  for  you.  When  I  thought  of 
your  father  and  mother,  and  thought  what  their  hopes 
and  plans  for  you  must  be,  it  seemed  as  if  in  them, 
alone,  were  barriers  too  great.  Whichever  way  I  turned 
I  saw  only  obstacles  in  my  way.  It  all  then  seemed 
so  hopeless.  I  saw  you  then  in  a  new  role.  Your 
father  one  of  the  great  men  of  the  nation,  and  you  the 
belle  of  the  nation's  capital.  But  I  found  you  unspoiled 
by  it  all,  and  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  talk  at 
Cabin  John's  Bridge  I  cast  caution  to  the  winds  and 
spoke  out  from  a  heart  that  had  grown  restless  under 
a  love  that  had  never  until  then  found  utterance  in 
speech.  There  it  was  that  you  gave  me  reason  to  hope, 
nothing  more.  And  then  came  the  Mexican  War.  It 
brought  with  it  some  of  the  rewards  that  men  of  the 
army  count  dear.  My  record  was  such  that  you  wrote 
me  letters  in  which  you  said  that  you  were  proud  of 
your  cadet,  and  that  when  the  war  was  over  I  must  come 
to  you  and  be  knighted  again.  Of  course,  this  was 
uttered  in  jest,  and  yet  I  determined  to  take  you  at  your 
word,  and  ask  for  that  which  the  knightliest  of  men 
might  be  proud  to  receive — the  gift  of  your  love.  And 
so,  Sallie  dear — I  have  come  to  ask  if  you  will  fulfil 
that  promise  and  knight  me  with  your  love." 

He  had  paused  now,  and  was  looking  straight  into  the 
lowered  eyes  of  the  woman  of  his  choice.  She  did  not 
answer  him  at  once.  She  knew,  as  most  women  know, 
that  some  day  the  question  would  be  asked  and  that  she 
must  answer  it.  And  yet,  now  that  it  had  come,  she 


CUPID  AND  MARS 

found  herself  in  a  fierce  conflict  of  opposing  emotions. 
On  the  one  side  was  the  thought  of  her  family,  of  that 
proud  mother  with  her  prouder  lineage  of  Virginia  fore- 
bears. Of  that  father,  of  whom  she  was  so  proud  and 
who  had  so  much  faith  in  her.  She  knew  full  well  that 
they  would  not  willingly  listen  to  the  thought  of  her 
marrying  a  man  without  fortune,  family  or  position,  no 
matter  how  estimable  he  might  be  personally.  She  knew 
only  too  well  that  they  had  long  ago  set  their  hearts  on 
her  marrying  Clement  Brett,  who  had  been  a  most  per- 
sistent suitor  for  her  hand,  and  whose  family  and  for- 
tune were  equal  to  her  own.  But  could  she  give  up  this 
manly  man — him  of  the  clean  mind  and  the  grave,  true 
heart,  even  for  the  sake  of  those  she  loved  so  dearly,  and 
to  whom  she  owed  so  much?  And  while  the  struggle  in 
her  own  mind  went  on,  the  man,  with  wisdom  far  beyond 
his  years,  kept  silent.  Finally  she  spoke : 

"Soldier  boy,  if  you  can  be  patient  and  faithful  and 
true,  I  think  all  will  come  out  right.  But  for  the  pres- 
ent you  must  be  content  with  this,"  and  her  voice  sank 
as,  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  she  whispered,  "My 
love  is  yours,  treasure  it  well." 

As  she  finished  speaking,  her  eyes  lifted  to  his,  and 
Burton,  looking  down  in  them,  saw  an  illumination  such 
as  is  born  of  perfect  trust  and  more — it  was  the  love- 
light.  Then,  gently  and  with  a  reverence  that  was 
beautiful  to  look  upon,  he  drew  her  close  to  him  and 
lifting  the  face  which  was  hidden  on  his  breast  to  his 
own,  he  kissed  the  lips  that  still  trembled  with  the 
words  which  had  been  wrung  from  them  at  love's 
confessional. 


142  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

In  the  happiness  of  that  moment — the  greatest  that 
either  of  their  two  lives  had  ever  known — all  the  doubts 
and  perplexities  of  the  past  and  present  were  forgotten. 
Even  the  future  had  no  terrors  for  her  as  she  lay 
nestled  in  those  strong  arms.  And  thus  they  talked  of 
the  past,  reveled  in  the  present  and  planned  for  the 
future.  He  could  feel  the  beatings  of  her  heart,  as  she 
told  him  that  it  was  the  thoughts  of  him  upon  the  battle- 
field that  had  wrung  from  her  the  secret  of  her  own 
heart,  and  it  was  he  alone  who  held  her  love.  And  when 
a  love  such  as  hers  is  self-confessed,  it  is  never  content 
until  there  is  complete  surrender  to  the  object  of  it  all. 

One  condition  only  she  exacted  from  him,  and  that 
was  that  their  engagement  must  for  the  present  remain 
a  secret  between  themselves  alone.  He  must  go  to  his 
lonely  life  in  the  barracks  of  a  remote  fort  on  the  Cali- 
fornia coast,  without  telling  the  world  of  their  plans  to 
spend  their  life  together,  trusting  to  her  that  before  he 
returned  she  would  have  brought  about  the  full  consent 
of  her  parents  to  their  union. 

In  parting,  she  gave  him,  amidst  many  kisses,  a  part- 
ing injunction  which  he  had  occasion  to  repeat  over  to 
himself  many  times  in  the  days  of  his  exile  which  were 
now  close  upon  him. 

"I  have  given  you  my  heart,  dear  love,  wholly  and 
unreservedly.  It  is  now  in  your  keeping,  whether  the 
world  knows  it  or  not.  Be  worthy  of  the  trust  and  all 
will  come  out  well." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

LIFE  AT  FORT  HUMBOLDT 

THE  sun  is  setting  blood-red  in  the  waters  of  the 
Pacific,  giving  to  the  lone  observer  on  a  sandy  dune  just 
north  of  Fort  Humboldt,  on  the  California  coast,  one  of 
the  most  superb  nature  pictures  to  be  found  anywhere 
in  the  world.  The  observer  in  question  was  a  man  of 
thirty  years,  or  thereabouts.  He  was  sitting  on  a  log 
some  distance  from  the  fort,  and  utterly  alone.  A 
closer  glance  would  have  revealed  the  features  of  Cap- 
tain Burton,  recently  appointed  to  the  command  of 
a  company  at  this  distant  outpost  of  civilization. 
Nearly  a  year  had  passed  since  the  day  he  had  bidden 
the  last  tender  farewell  to  Sallie  Custis  in  Maysville. 
During  that  time  much  had  transpired. 

In  the  month  of  December,  1848,  Samuel  Burton,  now 
a  captain  in  the  regular  army,  had  duly  reported  for 
duty  to  his  regimental  commander  at  Pascagoula,  Mis- 
sissippi. He  there  learned  from  Captain  Brett,  com- 
manding Company  K,  of  the  Fourth  Infantry — to 
which  his  own  company  also  belonged — that  the  regi- 
ment had  been  ordered  to  proceed  at  once,  via  Panama, 
to  California.  The  orders  so  given  were  duly  carried 

143 


144  THE  MAN  OF  DESTIN 

into  effect  and  a  few  months  later,  in  the  early  summer 
of  1849,  found  the  regiment  at  San  Francisco,  Cali- 
fornia. From  thence,  after  a  few  weeks'  rest,  Burton's 
company  embarked  for  Fort  Humboldt  to  do  garrison 
duty  there,  with  other  companies  of  the  same  regiment. 

Never  would  the  young  soldier  forget  his  first  view 
of  the  beautiful  bay  as  he  saw  it  early  in  the  morning  of 
a  beautiful  October  day  in  1849.  To  the  west,  the  wide 
stretches  of  the  Pacific  had  set  its  hard  lines  against  the 
steady  glare  of  the  California  sky  in  an  irritating 
metallic  glitter.  In  the  distance  could  be  seen  a  succes- 
sion of  domelike  hills  and  beyond  the  coast  a  range  of 
snow-capped  mountains.  Passengers  in  the  passing 
steamers  saw  no  change  in  that  misty  undulation,  save 
a  mass  of  turreted  peaks  with  wooded  crests  and  tim- 
bered ravines.  Even  sound  was  absent.  As,  later,  Bur- 
ton became  better  acquainted  with  his  surroundings,  he 
learned  that  when  the  ever-present  fog  stole  inland,  all 
distance,  space,  character,  and  locality  vanished  but  the 
distant  hills  upon  which  the  sun  still  shone,  bore  the 
same  monotonous  outline.  That  often  amid  such  scenes, 
the  sun  would  sink  blood-red  in  the  western  horizon,  and 
a  damp  breath  would  come  upon  the  picture  until  it 
faded  and  became  a  confused  gray  cloud. 

When  the  vessel  bearing  Burton's  company  entered 
Humboldt  Bay,  the  little  struggling  town  of  Eureka 
could  be  seen  to  the  right,  three  miles  inland,  while  near- 
by was  the  fort  itself,  made  of  hewn  timbers  with  bar- 
racks plastered  within  and  adorned  outside  with  chim- 
neys of  stone.  This  fortification,  styled  "Fort  Hum- 
boldt," stood  on  a  square  plot  of  ground  surrounded  by 


LIFE  AT  FORT  HUMBOLDT  145 

dark  forests  of  spruce  and  pine.  From  it  a  magnificent 
view  of  Humboldt  Bay  could  be  obtained.  Burton  had 
not  been  long  stationed  at  this  distant  outpost  of  civili- 
zation until  he  had  explored  the  country,  both  afoot  and 
on  horseback,  for  miles  around.  Within  a  few  days  of 
his  arrival  he  had  found  time  to  journey  inland,  from 
the  coast  toward  the  mountain  range,  where  amid 
vast  forests  of  pine  and  redwoods,  would  oft-times  ap- 
pear great  sterile  ridges  of  rock.  Here  and  there  he 
would  find  sylvan  openings,  wonderfully  inviting  to  the 
rider  or  pedestrian  in  their  coolness  and  shadow.  Occa- 
sionally, leaving  the  main  road,  he  would  take  one  of 
the  trails  into  the  forest,  only  to  invariably  come  upon 
denuded  branches  and  stumps  of  pines  and  cedars. 
Sometimes  freshly  cut  logs,  still  wet  and  resinous,  be- 
tokened the  near-by  presence  of  the  lumbermen  who  had 
already  commenced  to  invade  this  region.  On  one  of 
these  excursions,  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  discovered  in 
the  depths  of  a  great  forest  of  redwood,  a  sawmill  in 
full  operation.  Long  before  he  came  upon  it,  he  located 
it  by  the  whirr  of  the  machinery  and  the  clanking  of  the 
chains  of  the  skids  of  sawn  planks  in  the  river  on  whose 
banks  it  was  built.  The  mill  itself  was  a  rude  shell  of 
boards  and  beams,  which  trembled  under  a  weight  of 
machinery  and  lumber. 

On  the  day  of  his  chance  visit  to  the  mill  it  so  hap- 
pened that  the  two  proprietors  of  the  concern  were  both 
standing  by  the  river  watching  the  lumbermen  drive  the 
logs  as  he  approached.  Mutual  introductions  followed, 
and  he  found  that  he  had  thus  strangely  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  big-hearted,  voluble  Irishman  called 


146  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

by  all  "Jim"  Ryan,  and  his  partner — a  quiet  reticent 
Canadian  by  the  name  of  John  Benedict. 

Burton  found  himself  drawn  toward  both  of  these 
men  from  the  very  first  meeting.  Ryan  was  an  impul- 
sive, warm-hearted  Irishman,  ready  of  wit  and  pos- 
sessing all  the  characteristics  of  the  true  Celt.  Bene- 
dict, on  the  other  hand,  was  almost  the  complete  antithe- 
sis of  his  business  associate.  Of  a  cast  of  countenance 
almost  somber  in  its  character,  his  reticence  and  reserve 
made  him  exceedingly  difficult  of  approach.  At  the 
time  of  his  meeting  with  Burton  he  was  probably  about 
forty  years  of  age.  With  a  total  absence  of  anything 
about  him  savoring  of  ostentation,  there  was  an  air  of 
nobility  and  gentleness  about  him  that  was  wonderfully 
attractive.  One  very  noticeable  characteristic  was 
that,  know  him  as  long  as  you  would,  he  never  made  any 
reference  to  his  past.  As  to  it,  he  never  at  any  time  in- 
vited confidences.  To  some  he  had  always  the  air  of  a 
man  who  was  living  under  a  cloud  of  some  sort,  or  who 
was  carrying  a  burden  which  at  times  was  more  than  he 
could  bear.  From  the  moment  of  their  first  meeting, 
Burton  made  up  his  mind  that,  so  far  as  it  was  in  his 
power,  he  would  get  acquainted  with  the  man.  And, 
with  the  exception  of  the  genial  Irishman,  Ryan,  Bene- 
dict was  the  only  one  among  all  his  acquaintances  at  his 
new  post  whom  he  cared  particularly  to  cultivate. 

From  the  very  beginning  the  dull  monotony  of  his 
life  at  Fort  Humboldt  was  to  Burton  productive  of  deep 
and  unwonted  depression.  He  cared  nothing  for  the  sea 
and  its  penetrating  breezes  chilled  him  in  the  early 
morning  when  the  southwesters  blew.  Almost  every 


LIFE  AT  FORT  HUMBOLDT  147 

morning  the  outlying  fog  would  roll  into  the  bay  to 
remain  until  driven  away  by  the  afternoon  trades. 
Often  Burton  would  go,  as  he  had  this  day,  to  the  prom- 
ontory near  the  beach,  which  opened  up  such  a  splendid 
prospect  of  the  ^reat  sea  beyond.  Its  perfect  isola- 
tion was  its  great  attraction  to  the  young  soldier.  The 
mountains  behind  seemed  connected  with  his  past,  the 
sea  to  the  west  looked  into  the  future.  They  were  all 
deep  symbols  to  him.  Here  he  could  turn  his  back,  if  he 
chose,  upon  those  snow-capped  mountains  that  seemed 
at  times  so  hard  and  cold,  and  lulled  by  the  distant  beat- 
ing of  the  surf,  the  lonely  cry  of  the  plover,  the  drowsy 
chain  of  alternative  breaths  of  cool  winds,  would  sit 
silent  and  alone  for  hours  at  a  time.  Often  there  would 
come  a  singular  calm  when  the  trades  blew  gently  and 
scarcely  broke  the  crest  of  the  long  Pacific  swell  that 
leisurely  rose  and  fell  on  the  beach.  He  loved  to  lie  at 
his  ease  upon  the  sweet-scented,  soft  beach  grass  that 
grew  abundantly  upon  the  promontory,  and  there  in- 
dulge in  day-dreams  of  the  future  years.  No  opiate 
could  ever  have  had  the  same  narcotic  influence  that 
these  surroundings  had  upon  the  homesick  and  lonely 
soul  of  the  exiled  soldier.  Seagulls  and  pelicans  flew 
over  the  water.  When  the  leaves  of  the  trees  bent  before 
the  northwest  winds  thy  had  a  colorless  brilliancy  and 
the  manzanita  plants  gave  out  a  slight  aroma  in  the 
heat  of  the  day. 

Sometimes  he  would  sit  there  until  the  moon  rose, 
swinging  low  over  the  snowy  ridge  beyond.  Then  would 
come  quaint  odors  in  the  still  night  air  and  a  strong 
incense  from  the  forest  was  wafted  to  him  and  breathed 


148  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

a  strange  exhalation  into  his  nostrils  which  produced 
revery  deep  and  profound.  Then  it  was  that  the  past 
would  appear  in  review  before  him.  Later  when  the  mild 
California  winter  set  in,  he  would  be  compelled  to  spend 
his  evenings  in  his  quarters.  There  in  a  comfortless 
room  with  a  rag  carpeting  on  the  floor,  and  no  rugs  to 
soften  the  hearthstone  backed  with  burning  logs,  he 
would  sit  down  before  the  fireplace  and  watch  the  flames 
galloping  up  the  chimney.  At  such  times  he  would  go 
to  a  trunk  in  the  corner,  and  opening  the  lid,  would 
take  out  a  package  of  letters.  These  he  would  open  and 
read,  and  in  reading  them  he  seemed  to  lose  conscious- 
ness of  all  else.  Then  the  troubles  of  the  day  would  be 
forgotten  with  the  sternness  and  the  injustice  of  the 
harsh  commandant,  that  had  been  his  lot  to  endure  for 
some  time  past.  At  such  times  he  had  little  foreboding 
of  the  tragedy  that  was  even  then  close  at  hand.  Then 
he  would  forget  that  he  was  in  that  desolate  room, 
lighted  only  by  the  firelight,  and  would  imagine  himself 
once  more  back  at  "Indian  Rock"  with  the  one  he  loved. 
When  he  had  finished  reading  the  letters,  he  would  sit 
long  looking  into  the  fire,  plunged  in  deep  thought.  The 
hours  would  pass  and  he  would  scarcely  move,  save  to 
replenish  the  fire,  which  had  in  the  meantime  burned  low, 
and  then  through  the  mists  of  months  of  absence,  over 
the  space  of  the  continent  would  come  the  image  of  the 
young  mistress  of  Vaucluse.  Such  habits  as  these 
served  to  emphasize  in  his  own  mind  the  isolation  of  his 
present  lot.  The  strongest  nature  might  well  have  been 
influenced  by  such  a  situation.  Separated  from  the 
woman  he  loved,  enervated  by  a  climate  that  did  not 


LIFE  AT  FORT  HUMBOLDT  149 

agree  with  him,  consigned  to  a  post  of  duty  which  was 
virtually  sending  him  into  exile,  it  is  little  wonder  that 
he  found  himself  subject  to  long  spells  of  depression 
from  which  he  found  great  difficulty  in  freeing  himself. 
He  was  indeed  a  fit  subject  for  those  passions  and  appe- 
tites which  await  our  moments  of  weakness,  and  then 
seek  to  obtain  the  mastery  of  man's  moral  nature,  and 
thus  ultimately  make  of  him  a  moral  if  not  a  physical 
wreck.  There  had  been  many  causes  at  work  which 
might  have  given  plausible  ground  for  the  belief  that 
life  in  this  frontier  post,  would  destroy  the  moral  fiber 
of  a  man  of  his  peculiarly  sensitive  temperament. 

First  and  foremost,  he  had  incurred  the  undeserved 
enmity  of  the  commandant  of  the  post,  Lieutenant-Col- 
onel Benton,  a  martinet  of  martinets.  Nothing  that  he 
did  seemed  to  please  that  irascible  individual,  and  he 
had  succeeded  in  making  Fort  Humboldt  a  mild  sort  of 
"Hades"  for  this  young  subaltern.  Then,  from  time  to 
time,  in  the  endeavor  to  increase  his  small  savings  and 
to  hasten  the  happy  day  when  he  could  claim  his  bride, 
he  had  made  sundry  business  ventures,  all  of  which  had 
resulted  disastrously  and  had  left  him  deeply  in  debt. 
Then  came  illness  and  this,  coupled  with  recurring  fits 
of  homesickness,  brought  on  a  habit  to  which  up  to  this 
time  he  had  been  a  stranger — that  of  occasionally  im- 
bibing very  lightly  of  strong  liquors.  He  had  inherited 
no  such  tastes,  and  this  weakness  under  other  circum- 
stances, would  have  been  entirely  foreign  to  his  nature 
and  character.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  far  less  so 
than  in  the  case  of  most  of  his  brother  officers.  But 
with  his  peculiar  physical  organization,  a  little  in  his 


150  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

ease  had  all  the  effect  of  excessive  indulgence  in  others. 
In  any  event,  his  weakness,  such  as  it  was,  was  not  lost 
upon  Captain  Carl  Brett,  who  had  been  exiled  to  this 
forlorn  post  at  the  same  time  that  Burton  had  received 
his  own  orders  to  take  up  his  duties  there. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

"EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE" 

CARL  BRETT  was  neither  by  nature  or  choiae  a  man 
without  principles.  All  the  traditions  of  the  distin- 
guished family  to  which  he  belonged  were  against  the 
doing  of  a  mean  and  dishonorable  act.  At  West  Point 
and  in  the  army  he  was  regarded  as  the  soul  of  honor. 
He  was  so  impeccable  in  all  that  stood  for  honor  and 
knightliness  of  character,  that  hitherto  in  his  career  he 
had  never  been  suspected  of  even  harboring  feelings 
which  would  not  have  done  honor  to  those  who  were 
most  punctilious  in  such  respects.  But  at  heart  he  was 
thoroughly  selfish  in  all  that  concerned  the  attainment 
of  any  desire  on  which  he  had  really  set  his  mind.  As  a 
boy  he  had  been  in  love  with  Sallie  Custis,  and  in  his 
manhood  he  determined  that  nothing  should  prevent  ,her 
being  his.  On  the  surface,  everything  seemed  to  favor 
his  suit.  Both  her  family  and  his  own  looked  with  entire 
favor  upon  the  union  as  a  thing  greatly  to  be  desired. 
As  for  the  girl  herself,  she  had  always  been  fond  of  him, 
having  made  of  him  a  sort  of  childhood  hero.  As  they 
grew  older  the  feeling  bade  fair  to  ripen  into  something 
warmer.  In  fact,  everything  worked  in  Brett's  favor 

151 


152  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

until  the  advent  of  Burton  on  the  scene  of  action.  Even 
that  worried  Brett  but  little,  until  his  defeat  in  the 
riding  contest  at  West  Point  convinced  him  that  in  the 
person  of  his  Academy  classmate  and  brother  officer  he 
had  a  dangerous  rival.  Then  came  the  Mexican  War, 
which,  while  it  brought  higher  promotion  to  Brett,  yet 
produced  the  greater  real  honors  for  Burton.  In  the 
hero  of  the  famous  ride  at  Monterey  and  the  mounting 
of  the  howitzer  on  San  Cosmos  Church,  was  personified 
far  more  to  catch  a  young  girl's  fancy,  than  the  mere 
winning  of  a  captain's  commission.  Long  before  the 
regiment  to  which  they  both  were  attached  had  been  or- 
dered to  California,  Brett  had  seen  clearly  that  he  was 
destined  to  lose  the  girl  of  his  choice,  unless  something 
unexpected  and  totally  unlocked  for  should  arise,  which 
should  cause  her  to  break  off  a  relationship,  which  had 
grown  suspiciously  close.  All  the  way  on  the  long  voy- 
age to  California,  Brett  brooded  over  the  matter,  with 
the  result  that  when  Fort  Humboldt  was  reached,  he 
had  formed  a  fairly  well-developed  plan  to  rid  himself 
for  good  of  the  dangerous  rivalry  of  his  former  class- 
mate. Not  since  the  close  of  their  life  at  West  Point 
had  the  two  young  men  been  on  terms  of  intimacy. 

Ever  since  Burton's  last  visit  to  Maysville  and 
Brett's  subsequent  visit  to  Sallie  Custis'  home  at  Vau- 
cluse,  the  relations  between  the  two  classmates  had 
become  very  much  strained,  if  not  openly  inimical.  Not 
that  anything  that  Burton  had  done  had  been  responsi- 
ble for  it.  It  arose  solely  through  his  rival's  standing  in 
the  way  of  what  Brett  wanted  most  in  the  world,  and 
that  hot-headed  young  Southerner  was  not  of  a  kind  to 


"EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE"  153 

brook  opposition  of  any  sort  wherein  he  was  vitally  con- 
cerned. Nor  was  it  that  Brett  was  naturally  of  a  vin- 
dictive disposition.  But  he  loved  Sallie  Custis  with 
all  the  power  of  a  selfish  nature,  and  would  have 
gone  through  fire  and  water  to  win  her.  He  alone  of  all 
others  had  good  reason  to  suspect  the  existence  of  an 
understanding  between  the  woman  he  loved  and  his 
brother  officer  at  the  post.  He  had  pleaded  his  own  suit 
on  that  last  visit  to  Vaucluse  and  Sallie  Custis  had  ad- 
mitted that  there  was  another  "Richmond"  in  the  field, 
whom  some  day,  if  all  went  well,  she  would  marry.  She 
did  not  mention  Burton's  name,  but  ever  since  the  day 
of  the  tournament  at  the  West  Point  Academy,  a  lover's 
instinct  had  told  Brett  only  too  clearly  who  was  his  most 
dangerous  rival. 

So  from  the  day  that  Brett  first  heard  of  Burton's 
occasional  indulgence  in  liquor,  and  its  extraordinary 
effect  on  him,  the  former's  mind  had  dwelt  upon  the  sub- 
ject with  an  avowedly  sinister  motive.  He  knew  full 
well  the  commanding  officer's  curious  dislike  of  Burton, 
and  he  felt  sure  that  all  that  was  needed  to  insure  Bur- 
ton's disgrace  and  forced  resignation  from  the  army 
was  to  have  him  reported  drunk  while  on  duty,  to  Col- 
onel Benton.  That  hot-headed  disciplinarian  could  be 
trusted  to  do  the  rest.  Knowing  Burton's  popularity 
with  all  the  officers  and  the  men  at  the  post,  he  knew 
that  if  the  matter  was  reported  at  all,  it  must  be  done  by 
one  whom  selfish  interest  prompted  to  do  the  act.  His 
better  self  revolted  at  the  meanness  of  the  act,  but  his 
jealousy  and  desire  to  attain  his  ends  overpowered  in  his 
heart  every  other  consideration.  He  determined  to  da 


154  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

it,  and  the  plan  did  credit  to  his  discernment  of  Bur- 
ton's character. 

It  was  this :  To  get  Burton  in  a  condition  so  that  he 
could  be  reported  drunk  when  on  duty  with  his  company 
and  then  to  get  the  officer  of  the  day  to  so  report  him. 
Then,  he  reasoned,  that  when  Burton  was  called  up  be- 
fore the  commandant  of  the  post,  and  threatened  with  a 
court-martial,  he  would  more  than  likely  at  once  tender 
his  resignation.  This,  with  its  acceptance,  would  un- 
doubtedly ruin  him,  in  so  far  as  Sallie  Custis  was  con- 
cerned. "Burton  can  make  good  only  in  the  army,"  was 
his  thought,  "and  he  will  surely  fail  in  civil  life.  He  is 
so  incapable  of  dissimulation  that  he  will  write  to  Sallie 
Custis  at  once  and  tell  her  the  truth — in  so  far  as  he 
knows  it." 

To  both  Brett  and  Burton  the  prospect  of  being  shut 
up  together  in  a  desolate  army  post  was  equally  dis- 
agreeable. In  the  mind  of  one,  at  least,  was  the  convic- 
tion that  it  should  not  long  continue,  unless  the  plans 
which  he  even  then  formed  should  grievously  miscarry. 
The  regiment  had  not  been  at  Fort  Humboldt  many 
months  before  these  plans  were  carried  into  partial 
execution.  It  occurred  in  this  wise :  Among  the  officers 
stationed  at  the  four-company  post  that  bore  the  name 
of  Fort  Humboldt  was  a  certain  Lieutenant  Cass,  who 
occupied  the  position  of  First  Lieutenant  in  Burton's 
own  company.  He  was  an  inordinately  ambitious  per- 
sonage, fond  of  gambling  and  known  as  a  man  of  but 
little  principle.  Brett  had  early  fixed  his  eye  upon  him 
as  being  in  all  probability  the  most  pliant  tool  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  own  ends. 


"EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE"  1 55 

Before  coming  out  openly  and  accosting  Cass  on  the 
subject,  he  made  certain  of  two  things:  One  that  the 
latter's  heart  was  set  on  having  a  captaincy  and  the 
other  was  that  his  gambling  habits  had  involved  him 
seriously  in  debt.  So,  with  this  knowledge,  Brett  made 
up  his  mind  to  risk  opening  up  to  him  a  part  r.t  least  of 
what  was  in  his  mind. 

That  night  an  interview  of  a  most  private  nature  took 
place  between  Captain  Brett  and  Lieutenant  Cass  in  the 
quarters  of  the  former,  to  which  the  subaltern  officer 
had  been  most  unexpectedly  invited,  on  the  pretext  of 
sampling  some  particularly  good  crab-apple  brandy 
which  had  been  received  from  San  Francisco  a  few  days 
before.  Owing  to  Cass'  infelicitous  reputation,  he  sel- 
dom found  himself  the  recipient  of  any  such  marked 
social  attentions.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation 
which  ensued  Brett  said,  in  an  indifferent  tone  of  voice : 

"Cass,  don't  you  think  it  is  a  disgrace  to  the  regiment 
to  have  an  officer  in  it  who  makes  such  a  beast  of  himself 
as  does  Burton?" 

Cass  looked  the  surprise  he  felt,  and  said :  "It  is  not 
quite  as  bad  as  that,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  and  it  is  getting  worse.  If  the  real  facts  ever 
get  to  the  ear  of  Colonel  Benton,  that  will  be  the  end 
of  Burton's  usefulness  in  the  army.  Now,  I  will  tell 
you  frankly,  Cass,  that  I  have  no  love  for  Burton,  and 
I  propose,  for  the  good  of  the  service,  to  get  rid  of  him. 
The  reason  for  my  harboring  such  feelings  against  a 
brother  officer  is  no  concern  of  yours.  It  has  always 
been  one  of  my  beliefs  that  every  man  has  his  price. 
The  consideration  may  not  always  be  gold,  and  yet 


156  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

there  is  some  one  thing  that  he  holds  sufficiently  dear  to 
be  willing  to  barter  his  soul  for  it.  Cass,  there  is  no  use 
of  my  mincing  words  with  you!  Burton  stands  in  the 
way  of  my  attaining  something  more  precious  to  me 
than  anything  else  in  the  world.  To  get  him  out  of  my 
way,  I  must  force  him  out  of  the  army  under  such  cir- 
cumstances that  he  will  leave  it  under  a  cloud.  Now 
I've  told  you  my  wants  and  I  think  I  have  guessed 
yours.  You  are  next  in  line  to  Burton.  If  he  drops 
out  of  the  service  you  will  get  his  captainc}!-.  That's 
something  you  crave  and  crave  badly.  Another  thing 
you  not  only  want,  but  must  have,  is  money  enough  to 
clear  off  your  gambling  debts  and  put  you  on  your  feet 
again.  Now  I  will  put  you  in  the  way  of  getting  that 
captaincy,  clearing  off  your  debts  and  putting  you  on 
your  feet  financially,  if  you  will  do  a  little  work  for  me 
that  is  just  a  trifle  too  low  and  cowardly  for  me  to 
openly  do  myself.  It  is  this : 

"Several  years  ago  when  I  was  a  cadet  at  West  Point 
I  learned  that  a  thimbleful  of  strong  liquor  was  suf- 
ficient to  put  Burton  where  he  was  in  no  condition  for 
duty.  It  seemed  to  numb  his  senses  and  paralyze  his 
brain.  Now  I  happen  to  know  that  on  several  occasions 
of  late  he  has  been  slightly  under  the  influence  of  stimu- 
lants, which  he  has  not  touched  since  cadet  days,  on  the 
occasion  I  referred  to.  Now,  as  you  know,  he  is  popu- 
lar with  all  the  officers  at  the  fort,  except  the  d — d 
martinet  that  commands  here.  If  it  was  in  their  power, 
there  isn't  a  man  of  them  but  would  protect  him 
under  such  circumstances  even  to  the  point  of  refusing 
to  report  him  as  drunk  while  on  duty,  if  such  a  thing 


"EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE"          157 

should  occur.  Now  I  will  see  to  it  that  he  has  an  excel-, 
lent  opportunity  to  test  the  deadly  qualities  of  this 
crab-apple  brandy  here,  if  you  will  do  the  rest.  That 
is,  I  will  attend  to  the  trick  of  getting  him  'under  the 
influence'  on  some  occasion  when  you  will  be  acting  as 
officer  of  the  day,  if  you  will  report  him  drunk  while  on 
duty  to  old  Benton.  You  are  probably  the  only  officer 
here  at  the  'Post'  who  could  be  'induced'  to  do 
a  thing  like  that.  If  you  will  do  this,  you  will  un- 
doubtedly bring  about  his  court-martial  or  resig- 
nation and  thus  get  your  captaincy.  More  than  this,  I 
will  pay  off  your  debts  and  give  you  a  thousand  dollars 
besides.  Of  course,  it  will  make  things  pretty  uncom- 
fortable for  you  here,  but  I  can  soon  fix  that  for  you.  I 
am  going  to  send  in  my  own  resignation  from  the  army 
soon  and  start  home  on  a  furlough  pending  its  accept- 
ance. Through  my  father,  who,  as  you  know,  has 
great  influence  with  the  Secretary  of  War,  I  will  get 
you  transferred  to  duty  with  another  regiment  on  the 
Atlantic  coast,  and  then  you  will  get  rid  of  all  that 
unpleasantness. 

"There,  Cass,  you  have  the  whole  damnable  con- 
spiracy laid  bare  before  you.  Don't  delude  yourself  for 
a  moment  with  the  thought  that  I  do  not  appreciate  the 
contemptible  meanness  of  it  all.  Nobody  but  a  black- 
hearted scoundrel  would  conceive  such  a  plan  and  none 
but  a  cur  would  carry  it  out.  Yet  I  expect  to  be  paid 
my  price,  and  I  have  offered  you  yours.  Will  you 
accept  it?" 

As  Brett  finished,  he  coolly  lighted  a  cigar  and  with 
an  expression  of  cynical  contempt  on  his  face  waited 


158  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

for  his  companion's  reply.  The  latter — hardened  roue 
and  gambler  though  he  was — blushed  crimson  at  his 
fellow  officer's  brutally  frank  statement,  and  did  not 
answer  at  once.  Finally  he  spoke  in  a  husky  voice  which 
betokened  either  deep  emotion  or  a  surplus  of  crab- 
apple  brandy.  It  was  probably  a  mixture  of  both. 

"Brett,  with  all  these  debts  of  mine  staring  me  in  the 
face,  I  had  already  made  up  my  mind  to  sell  myself  to 
the  devil  in  order  to  get  rid  of  them.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, I  think  you  will  make  an  excellent  substi- 
tute. It  is  now  with  me  simply  a  question  whether  I 
take  the  government's  money  or  yours.  On  the  whole, 
I  think  it  will  go  easier  with  me  if  I  take  yours.  So 
we'll  call  it  a  bargain." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Brett,  apparently  unmoved, 
"anj  time  that  you  deliver  the  goods,  I  am  ready  to  pay 
the  price." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  RESIGNATION 

As  BURTON  was  sauntering  in  the  direction  of  the 
parade  ground,  one  chill  March  morning,  he  heard  some 
one  speak  his  name.  Looking  up,  to  his  surprise,  he 
saw  that  it  was  Brett,  who  beckoned  him  to  his  quarters 
on  the  side  of  the  road,  opposite  to  that  where  Burton 
was  walking.  On  stepping  across  the  roadway,  his 
former  classmate  accosted  him  in  this  wise : 

"Burton,  I  just  wanted  to  let  you  know  that  I  have 
handed  in  my  resignation,  and  that  I  start  next  week 
for  Virginia." 

The  visitor  was  indeed  surprised  at  this  unexpected 
news,  and  could  not  refrain  from  inquiring  as  to  what 
had  led  up  to  this  step. 

"Well,  father  wants  me  to  come  home  and  go  into 
politics,  and  so  I  have  decided  to  drop  back  into  civil 
life." 

This  led  to  some  further  desultory  conversation, 
which  finally  ended  in  a  reminiscent  vein,  largely  com- 
memorative of  their  West  Point  days.  As  Burton  rose 
to  go,  on  the  plea  that  it  was  about  time  for  company 
drill,  Brett  said:  "Before  you  leave  we  must  drink  a 
glass  together  to  the  memory  of  West  Point  days." 

159 


160  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Under  the  spell  of  thoughts  of  Academy  days,  Burton 
was  induced  to  drink  a  glass  of  the  very  brandy  which 
had  figured  so  largely  in  the  recent  confab  participated 
in  by  Lieutenant  Cass  and  Captain  Brett.  And  thus  in 
the  name  of  their  common  Alma  Mater,  was  the  victim 
of  the  plot  betrayed. 

"And  now,  Burton,  one  more  glass  to  our  mutual  suc- 
cess, you  in  the  army,  and  I  in  citizen's  clothes."  This, 
too,  was  drunk,  and  then  Burton  departed  to  perform 
his  duties  on  the  company  drill  ground.  An  hour  later 
it  was  noised  around  the  camp  that  Lieutenant  Cass,  as 
officer  of  the  day,  had  reported  Captain  Burton  to  Col- 
onel Benton  as  having  been  drunk  while  in  the  per- 
formance of  his  duties  as  an  officer  of  the  United  States 
army.  The  whole  post  was  dumfounded  at  the  news. 
Thus  to  learn  that  such  an  exemplary  officer  as  Burton 
had  always  been,  should  have  been  guilty  of  such  a 
breach  of  military  discipline  as  this,  and  even  more, 
that  a  brother  officer  could  have  been  found  who  could 
not  have  devised  some  legitimate  way  of  avoiding  such  a 
serious  step.  Officers  had  not  infrequently  been  found 
in  that  condition  on  other  occasions,  and  means  had  in- 
variably been  invented  of  keeping  the  fact  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  rigid  martinet  who  ruled  the  post.  As 
the  facts  became  known,  a  deep-seated  suspicion  was 
aroused,  in  more  than  one  quarter,  that  a  job  had  been 
put  up  on  Burton,  to  which  Cass,  for  wholly  selfish  rea- 
sons, had  been  at  least  a  willing  instrument.  But  none 
went  so  far,  not  even  the  victim  himself,  as  to  suspect 
that  the  high-minded  Carl  Brett  had  any  hand  in  the 
plot,  if  such  it  was. 


THE  RESIGNATION  161 

Immediately  after  the  matter  was  presented  to  him, 
Colonel  Benton  had  ordered  Burton  to  his  own  quar- 
ters, to  remain  there  under  arrest  until  further  order. 
Later  in  the  day  he  sent  an  orderly  to  the  disgraced 
officer,  directing  him  to  report  at  once  at  headquarters. 
The  matter  had  been  arranged  so  cleverly,  and  the  of- 
fense was  so  public,  that  it  would  have  been  no  easy  task 
for  even  a  complaisant  commandant  to  have  smoothed 
the  affair  over  without  a  court-martial,  and  in  this  case, 
he  was  far  from  desiring  to  do  so.  When  Burton,  in 
obedience  to  the  message,  appeared  before  his  command- 
ing officer,  the  latter  was  anything  but  sparing  of  the 
feelings  of  the  subordinate.  In  fact,  an  avowed  enemy 
could  not  have  been  more  brutal  in  his  manner  and 
words. 

"Captain  Burton,  you  are  reported  by  the  officer  of 
the  day  to  have  been  drunk  while  on  duty  to-day.  Under 
the  regulations  of  the  army,  I  have  no  other  alternative 
than  to  order  a  court-martial  upon  your  case.  There 
is,  however,  a  way  for  you  to  avoid  this  public  disgrace, 
which  can  only  result  in  your  dishonorable  dismissal 
from  the  army,  and  that  is  for  you  to  tender  your 
resignation  now  and  here.  I  have  received  information 
from  sources,  which,  though  private,  I  believe  to  be 
trustworthy,  that  this  is  not  your  first  offense  of  this 
kind.  Were  it  not  for  your  exceptionally  fine  record, 
sir,  in  the  Mexican  War,  I  would  refuse  to  recommend 
the  acceptance  of  your  resignation  and  would  let  the 
court-martial  take  its  course.  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  as- 
sure you,  for  the  good  of  the  service,  that  the  army  is 
no  place  for  men  of  your  stamp.  We  want  gentlemen 


162  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

here,  not  sots.  You  have  lived  on  the  strength  of  that 
Mexican  War  record  of  yours  long  enough.  The  time 
has  come  for  you  to  step  down  and  out.  You  had  bet- 
ter go  back  to  the  farm,  from  which  I  understand  you 
came.  The  country  lias  no  place  for  such  as  you  in  its 
service.  The  nation  wants  men  of  self-control,  those 
who  can  control  themselves  as  well  as  others.  My  ad- 
vice to  you  is  to  reform  at  once,  and  then  resign." 

While  the  cruel  cutting  words  of  the  old  martinet 
were  being  uttered,  the  clear  gray  eyes  of  the  young 
soldier  never  faltered  in  their  gaze  upon  those  of  the 
commandant.  There  was  a  glitter  in  them,  a  look  of 
indomitable  will  power  which  even  his  intimates  only 
saw  there  on  rare  occasions,  but  which  all  knew  to  indi- 
cate the  possession  of  an  iron  will  and  unswerving  pur- 
pose. 

"Colonel,"  he  said,  in  a  low  but  clear  voice,  "it  is  pos- 
sible for  a  soldier  to  do  his  full  duty  without  insult- 
ing, in  so  doing,  a  brother  officer.  There  are  many 
things  about  this  unfortunate  affair,  which  if  explained 
to  you  might  go  toward  mitigating  the  apparent  seri- 
ousness of  my  offense.  But  I  ask  for  no  opportunity  at 
your  hands,  or  that  of  any  one  else,  to  explain  my  con- 
duct. My  resignation  will  l)e  duly  tendered  to  you  dur- 
ing the  course  of  the  day.  Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"Yes,  you  may  return  to  your  quarters." 

Then  without  another  word  being  spoken,  he  returned 
to  his  quarters  in  disgrace.  As  far  as  human  wisdom 
could  foretell,  the  military  career  of  Samuel  Burton  was 
closed  for  all  time. 


BURTON'S  head  never  touched  his  pillow  the  night  fol- 
lowing his  interview  with  the  commandant  at  Fort  Hum- 
boldt.  What  his  thoughts  were  during  his  long  vigil 
can  easily  be  conjectured.  They  were  centered  on  one 
between  whom  and  himself  had  now  fallen  a  shadow  full 
of  ill  portent.  What  would  Sallie  Custis  say,  when  she 
heard  that  the  one  to  whom  she  had  given  her  trust  and 
love,  had  fallen  short  of  that  ideal  which  she  had  placed 
before  him?  The  words  that  she  had  spoken  to  him  that 
last  afternoon  at  Indian  Rock  were  ringing  all  night 
long  in  his  ears.  "Be  worthy  of  my  trust  and  all  will 
be  well."  And  now,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  through 
events  which  he  could  not  yet  explain,  it  must  appear  on 
the  surface  that  he  had  been  recreant  to  that  trust.  Oh, 
if  a  continent  did  not  separate  them  at  that  moment? 
If  he  could  only  take  her  once  more  in  his  arms  and 
there,  heart  to  heart,  explain  to  her  by  word  of  mouth 
just  why  he  was  not  the  sottish  creature  the  world  would 
have  her  think.  But  whatever  explanations,  if  they 
were  to  be  made  at  all,  must  be  written  ones.  And  so, 
long  after  midnight,  he  filled  out  his  resignation,  as  he 

163 


164  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

had  promised  to  Colonel  Benton,  and  then  set  himself 
to  the  harder  task  of  penning  this  letter : 

"DEAREST:  No  man  ever  set  himself  a  harder  task 
than  the  one  that  confronts  me  at  this  moment.  It  is 
not  easy  to  publish  to  the  world  one's  disgrace,  but  a 
thousand  times  harder  is  it  to  tell  the  one  we  love  best 
in  all  the  world,  that  we  have  done  anything  that  is 
unworthy  of  the  love  that  is  given  in  return.  And  yet, 
that  is  what  has  fallen  to  my  lot.  You  are  entitled  to 
the  whole  truth,  without  palliation  or  concealment.  It 
is  this:  Yesterday  I  was  intoxicated  while  in  the  per- 
formance of  my  duty  as  an  officer  and  a  soldier.  I  was 
ordered  by  my  commanding  officer,  to  whom  the  matter 
was  reported,  to  either  stand  a  court-martial  or  resign. 
I  have  handed  in  my  resignation  and  its  acceptance  has 
been  recommended  by  Colonel  Benton,  the  commander 
of  this  post.  It  will  be  some  months  probably  before  it 
can  go  through  the  regular  channels  and  be  returned 
here  with  the  approval  of  the  Secretary  of  War,  but  it 
will  surely  come,  and  then  I  will  be  adrift  in  the  world, 
without  a  profession  and  under  the  necessity  of  starting 
life  anew,  I  know  not  where.  No  one  realizes  better 
than  I  the  depth  of  the  disgrace  of  this  deplorable  af- 
fair, nor  the  sorrow  with  which  you  will  read  these  lines. 
I  do  not  believe  in  extenuation  or  excuses.  It  happened 
and  I  alone  am  the  responsible  party.  It  might  easily 
have  been  hushed  up  and  kept  from  the  world,  and  yet 
it  was  not.  Even  then  it  would  not  have  relieved  me 
from  responsibility.  You  have  given  me  your  trust  as 
well  as  your  love,  and  I  have  proved  myself  in  this  one 


THE  AFTERMATH  165 

case  unworthy  of  it.  All  I  can  do,  is  to  make  the  same 
plea,  which  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  often  makes,  after 
his  first  offense,  'Give  me  another  chance  to  prove  that  I 
am  a  man  and  can  control  my  appetites.'  As  God  is  my 
witness,  I  shall  never  fail  again,  and  with  His  help  I  will 
live  down  this  disgrace,  and  compel  the  world's  respect 
once  more.  I  will  go  to  a  new  field  and  there  work  with 
all  the  strength  of  purpose  that  is  in  me  to  win  success 
in  a  new  field.  Will  you  give  me  that  chance  and  will 
you  wait  until  I  have  achieved  a  position  to  which  I  can 
invite  you  to  come  and  share  with  me?  I  never  loved 
you  more  than  I  do  at  this  moment,  and  —  in  all  truth  — 
I  was  never  more  worthy  of  your  trust  than  in  this  hour 
of  darkness.  What  shall  it  be,  a  life  together  or 
estrangement?  It  is  for  you  to  say  which. 

"Tenderly  and  lovingly  yours, 

BURTON." 


The  following  morning  the  letter  of  resignation  and 
the  one  addressed  to  the  woman  of  his  choice,  were  both 
dispatched  to  their  respective  destinations. 

Then  followed  four  months  of  weary  waiting  until 
his  resignation  could  be  forwarded  to  Washington  and 
accepted  by  the  Secretary  of  War.  During  this  painful 
period  Burton  was  fairly  embarrassed  by  the  kindly  at- 
tention of  his  brother  officers,  who  sought  to  show  by 
unstinted  acts  of  kindness  to  him  and  openly  expressed 
contempt  of  Cass,  their  own  opinion  of  the  little  trag- 
edy that  had  been  played  before  their  eyes.  As  for 
Brett,  he  was  soon  to  escape  the  irksomeness  of  his  pres- 
ent position  at  the  fort  by  an  early  departure  for  San 


166  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Francisco  on  a  leave  of  absence,  which  was  to  terminate, 
as  all  now  knew,  in  his  return  to  civil  life.  "Jim"  Ryan 
and  his  silent  partner,  Benedict,  too,  took  the  occasion 
of  Burton's  temporary  disgrace  to  display  in  every  pos- 
sible way,  not  only  their  contempt  for  the  "bloody 
tyrant"  (as  the  Irishman  expressed  it)  who  had  forced 
his  resignation,  but  their  loyal  trust  and  confidence  in 
the  man  who  had  suffered  at  his  hands.  Ryan's  Ken- 
tucky thoroughbred,  "Eclipse,"  was  at  all  times  at 
Burton's  disposal,  and  many  were  the  rides  he  had 
through  the  country  for  miles  around  on  that  worthily 
famed  steed.  Many,  too,  were  the  pleasant  and  profit- 
able conversations  had  during  this  period  between  the 
disgraced  officer  and  the  Canadian,  Benedict.  In  the 
latter  Burton  found  not  only  an  interesting,  but  a  won- 
derfully attractive  and  winning  personality. 

At  the  end  of  four  months,  word  was  received  that 
the  resignation  had  been  accepted  and  that  Burton  was 
once  again  a  civilian,  without  a  profession  or  a  calling. 
And  all  this  time  no  word  came  from  Virginia.  Unless 
it  came  soon,  he  would  be  compelled  to  leave  for  San 
Francisco  without  knowledge  as  to  what  her  answer 
would  be  to  his  own  message.  At  last,  wearied  with 
waiting,  and  feeling  that  he  could  not  bear  to  remain 
longer  at  the  fort — -now  that  he  had  severed  all  relations 
with  the  army — he  arranged  to  leave  for  San  Francisco 
on  the  next  boat.  Before  doing  so,  he  obtained  a  prom- 
ise from  Benedict  that  should  any  letter  arrive  for  him 
in  the  meantime,  the  latter  would  bring  it  to  him  on 
his  own  promised  visit  to  that  place,  which  was  to  occur 


THE  AFTERMATH  167 

a  month  later.  So,  promising  to  send  his  address  as 
soon  as  he  had  located  himself  in  San  Francisco,  he 
bade  a  sad  farewell  to  the  friends  at  the  post,  which  had 
been  the  scene  of  the  most  unhappy  epoch  of  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IN  THE  SHADOWS 

THE  scene  now  shifts  to  a  cheerless,  uncarpeted  room 
in  the  loft  of  a  sailors'  boarding-house  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. It  has  one  occupant — a  man  clothed  in  the  garb 
of  an  army  officer.  A  close  inspection  would  have  re- 
vealed the  features  of  Samuel  Burton,  late  Captain  in 
the  United  States  Army.  He  had  now  been  a  month  in 
the  famed  city  of  the  "Golden  Gate,"  and  it  had 
brought  to  him  only  fresh  disappointment  and  humilia- 
tion. He  had  expected  to  find  friends  in  San  Francisco 
from  whom  he  could  borrow  sufficient  funds  with  which 
to  defray  not  only  his  necessary  living  expenses,  but  the 
heavy  cost  of  the  long  journey  to  the  Atlantic  coast  as 
well.  Too  proud  to  make  known  to  any  of  his  friends 
at  "Humboldt"  his  straitened  financial  condition,  he 
had  left  there  without  giving  them  an  inkling  of  the 
fact  that  save  the  month's  pay  which  he  received  the  day 
before  he  left  the  fort,  he  had  not  a  cent  to  his  name. 
Knowing  full  well  that  he  would  have  to  husband  his 
resources  well  until  he  could  get  assistance  from  friends, 
he  had  soon  after  his  arrival  in  "Frisco"  taken  quarters 
in  a  cheap  hotel,  known  as  the  "What  Cheer  House," 

168 


IN  THE  SHADOWS  169 

where  he  was  located  at  the  time  this  chapter  opens. 
Until  the  receipt  by  Benedict,  some  two  weeks  after  his 
departure,  of  his  promised  letter — giving  his  address 
in  San  Francisco  as  that  ill-favored  hostelry — no  one 
suspected  that  he  was  all- but  penniless.  But  the  mo- 
ment Benedict  informed  Ryan  of  the  location  of  their 
friend,  the  impulsive  Irishman  exclaimed,  "Bedad,  I 
know  that  'j'int'  and  a  bad  one  it  is,  too.  Seeing  the  lad 
is  in  trouble,  it's  up  to  us  to  see  that  he  has  help  and 
that  soon,  too."  So  it  was  agreed  between  them  that 
Benedict  should  hasten  his  proposed  visit  to  San  Fran- 
cisco a  little,  in  order  to  relieve  as  promptly  as  possible 
the  necessities  of  a  man  whom  they  knew  was  too  proud 
to  ask  their  help. 

Just  before  Benedict  departed,  a  letter  arrived  for 
Burton,  which  bore  the  postmark  "Vaucluse,  Va."  This 
he,  of  course,  took  with  him.  On  his  arrival  at  San 
Francisco  at  dusk,  Benedict  went  at  once  to  the  Palace 
Hotel,  preferring  to  announce  his  coming  by  sending  a 
messenger  on  ahead  to  the  "What  Cheer  House"  with 
the  letter  and  a  note  accompanying  it,  announcing  the 
writer's  arrival  and  promising  to  call  later  in  the 
evening. 

The  messenger  arrived  during  Burton's  brief  absence 
for  supper,  and  he  found  the  letter  and  note  both  await- 
ing his  return.  He  hastily  tore  the  letter  open,  and  this 
is  what  he  read : 

"I  have  just  read  and  reread,  with  a  heart  that  is  as 
heavy  as  lead,  the  story  of  your  forced  retirement  from 
the  army.  It  is  all  so  sudden  and  terrible  that  it  has 


170  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

affected  me  beyond  power  to  express.  My  faith  in  you, 
which  was  once  so  great,  is  now  all  but  dead.  Why  was 
it  to  be  that  one  whom  I  always  thought  so  strong  and 
self-reliant  should  be  found  so  wanting  ?  From  the  mo- 
ment that  we  first  met  until  now  you  have  always  been  a 
real  help  to  me.  In  watching  you,  I  grew  strong  in  my 
faith  in  your  honor.  In  the  days  that  are  past  I 
learned  to  trust  you  as  I  have  trusted  no  one  else  in 
this  world,  and  I  dreaded  the  future  at  times,  lest  I 
might  not  find  in  you  all  that  I  had  hoped.  But  time 
only  strengthened  my  faith  and  it  has  never  left  me  un- 
til now.  I  read  to-day  from  your  own  pen  the  full  story 
of  your  disgrace  at  Fort  Humboldt.  That  faith  which 
had  been  so  strong  within  me  all  these  years  grew  weak 
and  faded  away,  never,  I  fear,  to  return.  All  that  I 
asked  of  you  was  strength  and  perfect  fidelity  to  the 
trust  that  was  given  you,  whether  it  was  great  or  small. 
No  man  who  has  been  as  weak  as  you,  or  been  recreant 
to  his  duty,  can  have  my  full  respect.  As  you  have  in 
times  past  given  me  much  of  the  greatest  happiness  I 
have  ever  known,  so  now  this  disappointment  in  you 
brings  me  the  bitterest  sorroM'  that  it  has  ever  been  my 
lot  to  know.  I  expected  so  much,  and  now  that  expecta- 
tion is  gone  forever.  God  may  forgive  you  the  weak- 
ness and  unfaithfulness  and  I  pray  that  in  future 
years  I  may  learn  to  forgive  much  that  now  seems  im- 
possible of  forgiveness.  If  you  will  but  learn,  during 
the  days  to  come,  to  rise  from  the  stepping-stones  of 
your  dead  self  to  the  better  things,  you  may  in  this  way 
retrieve  the  past  by  means  of  the  future.  The  former 
is  gone,  and  suffice  it  to  say,  that  we  cannot  forget  it 


IN  THE  SHADOWS  171 

entirely.  As  for  the  future,  ih  parting  I  say  in  all  sin- 
cerity 'God  bless  you.' 

"Somehow  to-night  my  mind  goes  back  to  that  Sep- 
tember afternoon  when  I  first  met  you  at  your  uncle's 
house,  in  Maysville.  You  seemed  so  lonely  and  friend- 
less that  day  that  somehow  my  heart  went  out  to  you  in 
pity,  if  not  in  sympathy.  In  those  days  you  were  little 
more  than  a  boy,  and  I  but  a  young  girl,  and  yet  in 
many  ways  I  seemed  much  older  than  you.  During  those 
beautiful  fall  days  that  I  spent  at  Maysville  I  saw  so 
much  of  you  and  you  showed  to  me  a  side  of  your  char- 
acter that  you  managed  to  keep  from  all  others. 
Girl  though  I  was,  I  saw  in  you  a  gentleness  coupled 
with  a  strength  of  purpose  that  told  me  that  some  day, 
if  the  way  should  open,  you  would  attain  things  that 
most  people  thought  far  beyond  your  reach.  So,  with 
more  faith  in  you,  perhaps,  than  you  had  in  yourself,  I 
told  you  much  of  my  friends  and  of  the  world  of  which 
I  myself  knew  but  little  and  you  nothing,  in  the  hope 
that  some  day  you  might  reach  out  and  grasp  those 
things  that  seemed  so  far  away. 

"Then  I  went  back  to  my  Virginia  home,  and  in  doing 
so  I  went,  apparently,  cut  of  your  sight,  but  it  was  not 
to  be  so.  You  found  yourself  when  I  was  too  far  away 
to  be  of  any  help,  and  the  next  I  heard  of  you  was  that 
you  had  entered  West  Point.  When  this  news  came  to 
me  in  a  letter  written  by  your  cousin,  I  was  made  proud 
and  happy  over  it,  and  the  old  faith  in  you,  which  was 
once  so  strong,  came  back.  You  can  never  know  how 
proud  of  you  I  was  during  those  commencement  days  at 
West  Point.  You  had  grown  so  and  it  seemed  that  I 


172  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

had  even  a  part  in  that.  Then  came  those  days  of  skill 
in  the  riding  academy  when  you  vanquished  all  others. 
I  was  so  proud  and  happy  that  day,  though  your  vic- 
tory meant  the  defeat  of  my  life-long  playmate  and 
friend.  Then  came  that  never-to-be-forgotten  walk  and 
talk  the  night  of  the  Commencement  ball,  when  you 
seemed  to  come  so  close  to  me.  As  I  recall  the  hours  that 
we  spent  together  at  Vaucluse  and  West  Point,  there 
does  not  come  to  me  a  single  marring  incident.  At  Cabin 
John's  Bridge  I  learned  the  strength  of  your  love  and 
my  heart  even  then  did  not  wholly  refuse  to  listen,  but 
distrustful  of  myself,  not  you,  I  sent  you  away  without 
the  promise  that  you  asked  of  me.  Then  came  those 
dreadful  yet  stirring  days  of  the  Mexican  War,  when 
your  letters  came  telling  me  of  your  hours  of  peril  while 
fighting  our  country's  battles  on  foreign  soil.  After 
every  battle  I  trembled  and  waited  lest  your  name 
should  be  among  the  slain,  and  when  the  good  news 
would  come,  coupled  with  some  word  of  recommendation 
for  your  conduct  in  the  battle,  I  was  proud  of  my 
soldier  boy  in  Mexico. 

"And  then,  when  the  war  was  over  and  you  came  back 
to  me  and  asked  me  for  my  love,  I  gave  it  freely  and 
unreservedly.  To  me  you  have  been,  in  the  past,  all 
that  is  noble,  pure  and  good.  I  had  learned  to  love  you 
as  a  girl  should  one  to  whom  she  is  to  intrust  her  life's 
happiness.  Was  it  not  so  ?  That  blessed  day  at  Indian 
Rock,  when  I  sent  you  away  with  the  answer  you  asked 
for,  there  came  over  me  a  great  wave  of  yearning  and 
loneliness  of  which  you  never  knew.  I  wanted  you  so, 
and  yet  I  had  bidden  you  go.  In  the  lonely  hours  of 


IN  THE  SHADOWS  US 

the  night  which  followed  I  stretched  out  my  arms  to 
you  in  my  loneliness,  just  for  a  touch  of  your  hand  in 
mine,  and  the  years  before  me  came  like  a  cloud  to  my 
eyes.  Then  I  prayed,  as  I  had  never  prayed  before,  and 
peace  and  rest  came  with  the  knowledge  that  I  had  your 
love  for  all  time  to  come.  For  I  knew  then  a  love  that 
does  not  change  with  time  and  the  passage  of  years.  I 
went  to  sleep  that  night  with  your  name  on  my  lips.  I 
am  truly  glad  that  I  have  known  you.  It  is  one  of  the 
best  blessings  that  has  ever  come  into  my  life.  And  if  in 
the  face  of  the  evil  days  that  have  now  come  upon  us,  it 
is  necessary  for  us  both  to  suffer,  it  will  not  be  without 
its  benefits.  In  the  days  gone  by,  you  were  to  me  so 
manly  and  good  and  true,  that  you  were  to  me  a  king- 
among  men.  You  must  always  remember  that,  whether 
I  will  or  not,  I  shall  think  of  you  often  in  the  long  days 
to  come.  There  are  so  many  ways  that  you  have  helped 
me,  unconsciously  perhaps — so  many  that  I  cannot  tell 
of  them  here — and  I  have  sometimes  been  lost  in  wonder, 
that  you,  who  have  been  with  me  so  little,  have  helped 
and  influenced  my  life  so  much.  I  think  I  have  always 
been  happy  and  sunny-hearted,  but  since  I  have  known 
you  I  have  loved  people  more,  been  more  just  and  fair 
to  others,  and  there  is  a  new  sympathy  in  my  heart  for 
those  who  suffer,  for  those  who  fail  in  life  because  the 
burden  is  too  great.  Before  I  knew  you  I  used  to 
shrink  away  from  people  who  were  maimed  or  deformed, 
or  even  simply  common,  and  now  instead  of  the  old 
horror  I  find  myself  longing  to  reach  out  and  help  some 
one,  to  take  up  those  broken  lives  of  men  and  heal  them. 
And  why  is  this?  It  is  because  I  have  learned  to  know 


174  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

what  love  is.  It  is  great  and  wonderful.  When  people 
love  it  is  because  of  the  great  joy  in  their  heart  that  is 
reaching  out  and  touching  their  lives. 

"And  now  your  path  and  mine  must  separate,  per- 
haps never  to  meet  again.  If  in  the  years  to  come,  I 
am  able  to  bring  happiness  to  others,  it  will  be  because 
I  have  been  on  the  mountain  tops  and  have  seen  the 
ideals  as  well  as  the  realities  of  life.  I  had  a  dream  a 
few  nights  ago,  the  memory  of  which  still  clings  to  me 
so  that  I  cannot  throw  it  off.  I  dreamed  that  I  was 
climbing  up  a  long  and  steep  mountain  side,  made  up 
of  great  uneven  steps.  I  was  very  tired,  and  though  I 
had  climbed  for  so  long,  there  was  still  a  great  distance 
to  go  before  I  reached  the  top.  I  turned  and  looked 
backward  down  the  slope,  and  saw  you  struggling  up 
the  steep  pathway,  weary  with  the  journey,  yet  with 
your  face  illumined  with  longing  for  the  summit.  I 
was  overwhelmed  by  a  great  yearning  to  go  to  you,  for 
I  realized  that  I  cared  for  you  more  than  I  ever  dared 
confess.  But  when  I  started  downward  there  was  a 
great  rock  in  my  path,  and  I  saw  that  my  path  was 
blocked  and  that  I  could  not  reach  you,  and  then  I 
awoke. 

"And  now,  that  your  letter  has  been  received  I  grasp 
the  full  meaning  of  that  dream.  A  great  and  impas- 
sable barrier  has  been  placed  between  us  by  your  own 
hand.  Instead  of  taking  up  life  together,  we  must  now 
commence  one  that  will  be  forever  apart.  As  you  go 
your  way,  and  I  go  mine,  again  I  say  it,  though  my 
heart  be  sore  with  the  sorrow  of  it  ah1,  'God  bless  and 


IN  THE  SHADOWS  175 

keep  you  in  the  days  to  come.'  I  can  never  forget  the 
past,  but  I  can  forgive  the  injury  that  you  have  done 
us  both.  Good-by,  not  for  this  time,  but  for  all  time. 

"SALLIE." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  MAN  WHO   FAILED 

ONLY  he  who  has  passed  through  the  vale  of  shadows 
himself,  can  appreciate  the  feelings  that  possessed  the 
soul  of  Samuel  Burton,  from  the  moment  when,  in  his 
dire  extremity,  he  crossed  for  the  first  time  the  unin- 
viting portals  of  the  "What  Cheer  House."  At  one 
time  it  had  been  a  respectable  commercial  house,  but  had 
gradually  lost  its  hold  on  the  traveling  public,  until  now 
it  made  but  little  pretension  to  be  other  than  a  sailor's 
boarding-house. 

No  one  who  has  not  been  "down  on  his  luck,"  can 
comprehend  the  humiliation  of  the  ex-officer  of  the 
United  States  army  as  he  entered  the  uninviting  portals 
of" this  wretched  hostelry.  Disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  condemned  by  those  of  his  fellow  officers  who  did 
not  know  the  truth,  separated  from  the  woman  he  loved, 
friendless,  penniless,  and  alone,  he  truly  was  an  object 
of  pity. 

When  he  had  asked  for  a  room,  he  was  ushered  into 
a  dimly  lighted  apartment  on  the  third  story  of  the 
building.  All  that  it  contained  in  the  way  of  furniture 
was  a  bed,  a  chair  and  a  broken  washstand.  Amid  such 
surroundings  as  these  he  sat  on  the  night  the  messenger 

176 


THE  MAN  WHO  FAILED  177 

brought  him  Benedict's  letter,  inclosing  the  one  from 
Vaucluse.  With  the  open  letter  spread  out  before  him, 
he  sat  alone  with  his  thoughts.  He  had  arrived  at  one 
of  those  dramatic  crises  in  his  journey,  when  all  the 
tragedy  and  pathos  of  life  seemed  to  be  present.  He 
pondered  long  over  the  past,  which  carried  in  its  safe 
bosom  so  many  blessed  memories.  Only  a  few  months 
before  and  the  future  seemed  so  bright  and  full  of 
promise.  Now  how  changed  it  all  was !  He  knew  full 
well  what  a  cynical  world  would  say  of  him.  Already  he 
saw  written  in  no  uncertain  characters  the  word 
"failure"  after  his  name.  "There  goes  a  man,"  it  would 
say,  "whose  future  is  behind  him."  Then  would  come 
thoughts  of  all  those  who  had  in  the  past  believed  in  him 
and  had  hoped  so  much  from  him.  He  called  to  mind 
the  name  of  each  in  turn.  The  mother  and  father  so  far 
away,  at  that  very  moment  on  the  Ohio  farm ;  his  uncle, 
Tom  Carter ;  dear  Professor  Dolbier,  his  classmates  at 
the  Point,  all  those  who  had  been  his  comrades  in  the 
Mexican  War.  Was  it  true  that  back  of  him  lay  the 
dreadful  tragedy  of  a  life  that  seemed  to  him  worse 
than  wasted?  Gnawing  thoughts  came  to  harrow  his 
inmost  soul.  Self-examination  more  dreadful  than  that 
of  the  Inquisition  told  him  that  the  second  great  crisis 
of  his  life  had  come.  In  comparison  with  the  first,  the 
latter  paled  before  it  into  insignificance.  He  had  faced 
many  emergencies,  but  none  so  fraught  with  moment 
to  himself  as  this.  Alone  and  unaided,  he  must  summon 
all  the  manhood  within  him  to  meet  the  crisis  before  him. 
Was  he  a  dreamer?  Was  he  a  man  who  was  destined 
always  to  be  planning  some  great  work  and  never 


178  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

accomplishing  it?  Was  the  character  that  had  been 
forming  during  all  these  years  of  earnest  striving  for 
better  things,  to  fail  him  in  his  hour  of  need?  Was  he 
to  be  shipwrecked  in  this  storm  that  had  broken  out  of 
summer  skies,  condemned  to  float  like  some  mute  derelict 
until,  chilled  with  adversity's  numbing  touch,  he  should 
perish  on  the  bleak  coast  of  grim  despair?  Was  there 
nowhere  an  avenue  of  escape  from  it  all?  Were  the 
gates  of  hope  to  be  shut  in  his  face?  It  seemed  so,  for 
to-night  everything  appeared  to  speak  only  of  desola- 
tion and  death. 

The  high  night  wind  without  shook  the  window-panes 
of  the  forlorn  boarding-house  wherein  he  sat,  and  that 
sound  for  him  was  the  sound  of  despair.  Never  had  the 
Infinite  and  Eternity  seemed  so  close  to  him  as  now. 
He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  at  the  clouds 
scudding  before  the  moon  beneath  the  fierce  night 
wind.  Below  him  lay  the  life  of  the  city  and  from  the 
harbor  beyond  came  a  rising  mist.  He  glanced  at  the 
dark  waters  of  the  "Bay"  and  the  thought  came  to  him, 
that  there,  at  least,  was  a  safe  refuge  for  human  dere- 
licts. Hour  after  hour  he  sat  looking  out  upon  the 
deserted  street  below.  It  seemed  to  him,  that  night, 
symbolic  of  his  own  life.  The  whole  of  it  could  be  seen 
at  a  glance.  The  heavy  mists,  the  leaden  skies,  the  low 
clouds,  all  were  in  keeping  with  his  somber  mood.  He 
was  an  intense  man  that  night,  one  who  felt  and  saw. 
Here  he  was  at  last  friendless,  an  outcast,  solitary, 
reading,  as  it  were,  his  own  obituary  carved  on  the 
stone-work  of  his  brief  career,  in  the  word  "failure."  It 
was  this  word  seared  into  his  brain  which  held  him  spell- 


THE  MAN  WHO  FAILED  179 

bound  to-night.  And  why  should  he  fail?  Was  there 
not  left  to  him  the  will-power  and  the  strength  to  do 
whatever  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  him?  A 
man's  destiny  is  in  his  own  keeping,  the  opportunity  in 
God's.  And  while  he  struggled,  face  to  face  with  this 
destiny  of  his,  there  came  to  his  ear  from  out  of  the 
unknown  a  whisper  of  the  joy  of  living.  It  awoke  that 
all-persuasive  thing  we  call  the  love  of  life.  Once  more 
the  humanity  within  him  spoke  out  appealingly.  Some- 
thing from  within  told  him  that  sooner  or  later,  it  might 
be  years  perhaps,  but  some  day,  he  would  find  himself. 
And  as  he  sat  there,  with  sunken  eyes  and  haggard  face, 
drawn  tense  with  the  violence  of  the  struggle,  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  door. 

Without  rising  from  the  bed  on  which  he  sat,  he  said 
"Come  in."  A  visitor  entered.  He  glanced  up,  to  see 
before  him  the  Canadian — Benedict.  The  latter  ap- 
proached and  extended  his  hand.  Burton  grasped  it, 
and  seating  himself  on  the  bed  once  more,  offered  the 
chair  to  the  newcomer.  For  a  moment  there  was  an 
embarrassed  silence,  which  Benedict  was  the  first  to 
break. 

"Captain  Burton,"  he  said,  "I  had  a  feeling  as  I 
walked  over  here  from  my  hotel  that  you  might  be  in 
need  of  a  friend  to-night  as  you  have  never  needed  one 
before  or  ever  will  again.  This  is  my  excuse  for  in- 
truding on  you  at  this  late  hour.  It  is  not  necessary 
that  I  should  know  your  thoughts  in  order  to  be  of 
service  to  you  at  this  time.  All  I  know  or  care  to  know 
is  that  you  are  temporarily  down  on  your  luck,  and 
that  you  need  a  helping  hand.  I  have  had  troubles 


180  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

myself,  and  of  a  sort  that  you  will  never  be  called  upon 
to  bear.  For  this  reason,  and  because  I  am  the  older 
man,  I  may  perhaps  be  able  to  say  to  you  the  right 
ivord  at  this  time — one  that  I  hope  may  start  you  on 
the  upward  track  once  more.  You  are  not  a  trifler,  and 
judging  from  those  heavy-set  lips  of  yours,  you  are 
anything  but  a  quitter.  My  firm  belief  is  that  to  every 
man  comes  his  chance  in  this  world,  sooner  or  later.  He 
may  not  see  it,  he  may  not  grasp  it  or  care  for  it,  yet 
it  comes.  And  so,  my  friend,  I  want  to  express  my 
belief  to  you  to-night  that  your  great  opportunity  is 
still  before  you — that  the  world  yet  holds  for  you  hon- 
ors of  which  you  have  never  dreamed.  Try  to  forget 
the  past,  and  remember  that  time  is  a  wonderful  healer 
and  brings  with  it  respites  from  every  wound.  What 
you  need  most  is  to  get  away  from  your  present  sur- 
roundings. Get  back  among  your  friends  once  more. 
To  do  this  you  will  need  funds,  and  I  would  deem  it  a 
privilege  if  you  will  let  me  act  as  your  banker,  for  a 
while,  until  you  can  find  it  convenient  to  repay  me.  In 
other  words,  let  me  advance  to  you  such  sums  as  you 
may  need  to  defray  your  expenses  back  to  New  York." 

No  one  could  have  been  more  overcome  at  such  unex- 
pected kindness  from  a  comparative  stranger  than  Bur- 
ton, and  he  could  scarcely  control  himself,  when  he 
attempted  to  express  his  thanks  for  the  loan,  which  he 
gratefully  accepted.  After  a  few  moments'  further 
conversation,  the  visitor  excused  himself  and  departed. 

After  he  had  gone,  the  young  soldier  sat  for  a  long 
time  again  buried  in  deep  thought.  He  pondered  well 
over  the  words  that  had  been  spoken  to  him  that  night 


THE  MAN  WHO  FAILED  181 

by  this  ever-reticent  and  mysterious  man,  the  Canadian 
Benedict.  Who  he  was  and  where  he  came  from,  he  knew 
not.  And  yet  his  words  had  brought  to  the  surface  all 
the  latent  manhood  within  him,  and  with  it  came  hope 
and  an  infinite  peace,  such  as  he  had  not  known  for 
many  a  long  day.  A  few  moments  ago  it  seemed  an  im- 
possible task  to  reply  to  this  last  letter  from  Vaucluse, 
but  now  he  had  regained  his  poise  and  felt  that  he  could 
write  to  Sallie  Custis  what  was  destined  to  be,  as  far  as 
human  wisdom  could  tell,  the  last  letter  that  he  should 
ever  write  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ESTRANGEMENT 

IT  was  in  thorough  keeping  with  his  own  mood — 
these  bare  and  desolate  surroundings  of  the  sailors' 
boarding-house,  from  which  at  that  moment  were  being 
penned  the  words  which  would  complete  Burton's 
estrangement  from  the  woman  he  loved.  Only  circum- 
stances of  a  most  extraordinary  kind  could  wring  from 
this  reticent,  self-controlled  man,  such  words  as 
were  forced  that  night  from  him  out  of  the  agony  of  a 
bruised  and  wounded  heart.  It  told  plainer  than  words 
the  travail  of  the  soul,  and  this  was  what  he  wrote : 

"There  is  neither  anger  nor  resentment  in  my  heart 
at  what  you  wrote  when,  in  your  own  way,  you  told  me 
that  you  could  never  give  your  hand  in  marriage  to  one 
who  could  not  master  himself.  Those  words  of  yours 
destroyed  all  hope  of  fulfilment  of  what  was  my  devout 
wish — that  some  day  I  might  call  you  wife.  It  takes  a 
great  deal  to  drive  a  man  from  his  moorings  and  yet,  if 
we  only  knew,  a  woman  has  it  in  her  power  to  do  so. 
You  believe  me  weak,  incapable  alike  of  appreciation 
nnd  trust.  You  think  I  am  about  to  take  the  downward 
track  which  leads  to  failure,  wretchedness  and  possible 

182 


ESTRANGEMENT  183 

death.  I  feel  like  one  that  has  been  led  to  some  moun- 
tain top  and  shown  the  possessions  of  the  world,  and  is 
told  that  they  are  his,  if  he  will  but  keep  the  straight 
and  narrow  path  that  leads  to  the  garden  of  Eden 
below.  I  started  down  that  narrow  path,  but  have 
fallen  and  no  helping  hand  has  been  given  me.  I  find 
myself  wandering,  bruised  and  lost,  in  some  dark  moun- 
tain recess  far  below.  As  I  was  about  to  drink  of  the 
cup  of  perfect  happiness,  it  is  snatched  from  my  very 
lips,  and  I  find  myself  suffering  from  a  thirst  that  can 
never  be  quenched.  The  world  may  call  me  a  failure,  a 
derelict,  and  will  perhaps  buffet  me  like  a  bit  of  human 
driftwood  on  its  great  bosom.  But  sooner  or  later  I 
will  succeed.  You  will  live  to  see  me  regain  the  respect 
of  all  and  to  realize  that  one  false  step  cannot  mar  a 
man's  success,  if  he  but  have  the  right  stuff  in  him. 
The  world  will  give  me  another  chance,  even  though  you 
would  not.  I  will  never  marry.  I  gave  you  all  there  is, 
I  have  nothing  of  love  to  give  another.  The  past  you 
cannot  take  from  me.  I  am  better  for  having  known 
you.  In  the  days  to  come  I  shall  be  stronger  and 
happier  and  gentler  for  having  loved  you.  I  grant 
fully  that  you  have  done  what  you  believed  to  be 
right.  I  shall  miss  the  blessedness  of  days  spent  with 
you  by  my  side.  I  shall  look  in  vain  for  the  letters,  for 
they  will  come  no  more.  I  shall  have  many  a  heart- 
ache as  the  anniversary  of  some  day  that  is  blest  by 
having  been  associated  in  some  way  with  you,  rolls  by 
and  you  are  not  present  to  share  its  joys  with  me.  If  I 
were  the  weak  man  you  think  me,  I  might  write  and  tell 
you  that  you  have  wrecked  my  life.  Instead,  I  tell  you 


184  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

that  in  a  way  you  know  not  of,  you  have  made  it. 
For,  with  God's  help,  I  shall  rise  on  stepping-stones  of 
my  dead  self  to  better,  nobler  things.  So,  standing  to- 
night by  the  open  grave  of  my  dearest  hope  in  life,  I 
wish  to  say  a  parting  word  before  it  is  closed  forever. 
It  is  this :  We  may  never  meet  again.  Whether  that  be 
so  or  not,  please  remember  this :  That  what  I  gave  you 
of  love  in  the  years  that  are  past  can  never  be  given  to 
another.  I  can  never  love  but  once.  I  gave  you  all  I 
had.  My  heart  holds  nothing  of  love  which  I  could,  if 
I  would,  offer  to  another.  As  it  has  been  my  hope  in 
the  past,  it  shall  be  my  religion  in  the  future.  Where- 
ever  you  may  be,  there  my  thoughts  and  prayers  will 
follow  you.  You  are  my  queen  still.  I  can  serve  no 
other.  God  bless  and  keep  you  always  safe  from  all 
harm." 

Then  signing  and  sealing  the  letter,  he  retired  to  pass 
another  sleepless  night. 


THE  PASSING  OF  CASS 

PURSUANT  to  the  promise  he  had  made  Benedict,  the 
next  day  found  Burton  at  the  latter's  room  in  the 
Palace  Hotel.  He  stayed  there  nearly  two  hours,  going 
over  the  situation  with  this  friend  of  his  necessity.  As 
a  result  of  it  all,  it  was  decided  that  Burton  should  de- 
part on  the  boat  sailing  the  next  day  and  return  to  the 
east  via  Panama.  To  provide  the  necessary  expenses  of 
the  trip,  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  accept  a  loan  from 
Benedict  sufficient  to  get  him  comfortably  to  his  old 
home  in  Ohio.  More  than  this  Burton  would  not  accept, 
though  urged  strongly  to  do  so. 

The  following  day,  on  boarding  the  steamer  Golden 
Gate,  Burton  found,  to  his  surprise,  that  Captain  Cass 
was  to  be  one  of  his  fellow  passengers.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  as  soon  as  he  saw  Burton  he  carefully  avoided 
him,  showing  that  even  he  was  not  brazen  enough  to 
face  willingly  one  whom  he  had  so  grievously  injured. 
So  it  happened  that  the  two  men  never  met  face  to  face 
until  the  boat  had  landed  at  Panama.  The  passengers 
had  no  sooner  landed,  preparatory  to  making  their 
tedious  overland  journey  to  Aspinwall,  on  the  Atlantic 
side  of  the  Isthmus,  than  rumors  became  rife  that  yellow 

185 


186  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

fever  ana  cholera  were  rampant.  There  was  a  thirty- 
mile  ride  to  be  made  before  the  terminus  of  the  railroad 
would  be  reached.  This  meant  a  long,  tedious  journey 
by  mule,  through  dense  chapparal  and  deep  gorges,  un- 
der alternate  broiling  sun  and  drenching  rain.  During 
this  march  malignant  cholera  broke  out.  Not  only  the 
women  and  children,  but  many  of  the  men  of  the  party 
fell  ill  with  it.  The  mortality  was  dreadful.  Burton — 
veteran  soldier  though  he  was — had  been  appalled  at  the 
ravages  of  this  insidious  foe.  But,  with  a  moral  cour- 
age that  gave  little  thought  to  his  own  personal  safety, 
he  had  from  the  start  assumed  command  of  the  party, 
and  had  succeeded  in  accomplishing  much  toward  suc- 
coring the  sick  and  protecting  the  well  from  infection. 
All  willingly  obeyed  his  commands,  even  though  they 
had  no  authority  back  of  them  to  enforce  obedience. 
Each  seemed  to  acquiesce  naturally  in  the  order  of 
things,  which  placed  on  his  shoulders  the  responsibility 
for  their  comfort  and  safety.  Among  the  last  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  disease  was  Captain  Cass.  From  the  start 
it  was  apparent  that  his  case  was  a  most  severe  one,  and 
that  it  was  only  a  question  of  a  few  hours  before  the 
reckless  adventurer  must  himself  die.  His  only  atten- 
dant in  his  illness  was  the  man  whom  he  had  so  griev- 
ously injured  only  a  few  months  before.  As  soon  as  he 
had  learned  that  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  disease, 
Burton  found  time,  though  overwhelmed  and  utterly 
worn  out  with  his  self-imposed  responsibilities,  to  as- 
sume personal  care  of  him.  He  was  only  ill  forty- 
eight  hours.  Burton  was  at  his  bedside  the  night  he 
died.  Shortly  before  he  passed  away,  he  motioned 


THE  PASSING  OF  CASS  187 

him  to  his  side.  The  latter  leaned  over  him,  to  hear 
him  whisper  that  he  had  something  he  must  tell  before  he 
died.  Burton  urged  him  to  postpone  his  story  until  he 
was  stronger.  But  the  stricken  man  knew  he  had  only 
a  short  time  to  live. 

"No,  Burton,"  he  said,  "I  have  something  to  tell  you 
before  I  take  the  plunge  into  the  unknown.  It  concerns- 
you  and  I  must  have  your  promise  of  forgiveness  before 
it  is  too  late.  I  started  life  wrong,  Burton,  but  I  want 
to  end  it  right." 

Then  followed  the  story  of  the  plot  that  had  been, 
hatched  at  the  fort  between  Brett  and  the  speaker.  It 
was  given  even  to  its  minutest  details.  In  doing  so  Cass 
spared  neither  himself  nor  Brett  in  the  telling.  When 
he  had  finished,  it  was  plain  that  his  strength  was  going 
fast. 

"Can  you  forgive  me,  Burton?"  said  the  dying  man, 

"Willingly,"  came  the  response,  which  was  accom- 
panied by  a  gentle  clasp  of  Cass's  fever-wasted  hand. 
"You  were  forced  to  it,  Cass,  largely  by  your  neces- 
sities. The  real  sin  rests  not  on  your  soul,  but  on  the 
soul  of  another.  It  is  Brett,  not  you,  my  poor  fellow, 
who  should  seek  forgiveness  at  my  hands." 

The  next  day  there  was  a  hasty  burial,  and  all  that 
was  mortal  of  this  "soldier  of  fortune"  was  laid  to  rest 
under  the  tangled  vines  and  the  bright  flowers  of  the 
tropics. 

Three  months  later  found  Burton  once  more  on  the 
farm  where  he  had  spent  his  boyhood  days.  It  was  not 
a  cheerful  home-coming,  far  different  from  the  one  that 
had  preceded  it.  He  found  himself  no  longer  the  hero 


188  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

that  he  was  upon  his  return  from  the  Mexican  War, 
Even  his  father's  greeting  was  constrained  and  half- 
hearted in  its  warmth.  He  had  made  but  a  poor  at- 
tempt at  concealing  the  disappointment  and  sorrow  at 
the  misfortune  which  had  befallen  the  son  who  had  here- 
tofore been  the  source  of  so  much  pride.  But  in  "his 
mother  he  found  no  change.  In  weal  or  woe,  she  was 
always  the  same.  If  anything,  there  was  an  added  ten- 
derness and  sympathy  in  her  manner  to  him.  Not  a 
word  of  complaint  did  she  utter.  Only  words  of  cheer, 
expressive  of  her  abiding  faith  in  his  ultimate  success. 
He  only  stayed  a  fortnight  at  home.  He  was  unhappy 
there  and  eager  to  be  among  strangers  who  did  not 
know  of  his  past,  and  where  he  could  work  on  even  terms 
once  more  with  his  fellow  man.  He  spent  just  one  day 
at  Maysville,  en  route  to  New  York,  where  he  had  deter- 
mined to  go  in  an  effort  to  collect  some  money  which 
he  had  loaned  a  friend  some  years  before,  and  which  he 
needed  sorely  now,  in  this  hour  of  his  financial  ex- 
tremity. He  had  looked  forward  with  anxiety,  if  not 
dread,  to  this  visit,  and  yet  he  found  in  it  unexpected 
comfort  and  strength.  No  one  would  have  guessed  for 
a  moment  from  "Tom"  Carter's  greeting  to  his  nephew 
that  he  was  any  less  proud  of  him  than  on  his  memorable 
visit  two  years  before.  He  had  that  pride  of  race  which 
no  misfortune  could  lessen  or  blot  out.  In  sunshine  or 
shadow,  he  was  the  same. 

And  as  for  Professor  Dolbier,  he  treated  him  as  if  he 
had  been  his  own  son.  Such  treatment,  after  the  sad 
and  bitter  experiences  of  the  recent  past,  brought 
unbidden  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  younger  man.  It  was 


THE  PASSING  OF  CASS  189 

a  source  of  real  strength  to  know  that  there  was  still 
some  one  who  had  not  lost  faith  in  him.  While  at 
Maysville,  Burton  learned  from  his  cousin  Julia  that 
Sallie  Custis  was  to  be  married  to  Carl  Brett  at  Wash- 
ington during  the  coming  Christmas  holidays,  now  close 
at  hand.  He  was  not  prepared  for  such  news  as  this, 
and  it  came  to  him  as  another  of  those  blows,  which  had 
fallen  on  him  so  often  of  late.  He  tried  to  discredit  the 
truth  of  the  announcement,  and  yet  he  knew  that  it  must 
be  true.  It  had  been  hard  indeed  to  accustom  himself 
to  the  thought  that  she  was  not  to  be  his,  but  it  was 
bitterness  itself  to  think  that  she  was  soon  to  belong  to 
the  one  who  had  deliberately  wrought  his  ruin. 

At  times  there  would  come  to  him  a  longing  to  go  to 
her  and  tell  her  the  truth  about  the  man  whose  name  she 
was  about  to  take.  He  knew  full  well  that  were  she  to 
hear  the  story  that  had  been  told  him  by  Cass  on  his 
deathbed,  she  would  break  with  Brett  forever.  But  that 
would  not  undo  his  own  misstep,  or  would  it  give  her 
back  to  him.  No,  what  is  to  be,  must  be!  The  touch 
of  fatalism  in  his  nature  spoke  thus,  and  he  determined 
to  hold  his  peace.  Some  time,  perhaps,  she  would  know 
the  truth,  but  now  was  not  the  hour  or  the  occasion. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BRETT'S  EETUEN 

"GAEL,  tell  me  the  whole  truth  about  the  causes  which 
led  to  Captain  Burton's  resignation  from  the  army." 

The  speaker  was  Sallie  Custis  and  the  one  addressed 
none  other  than  Carl  Brett,  late  captain  in  the  United 
States  army.  The  latter  had  been  back  in  Virginia  now 
nearly  a  year,  and  yet  it  was  the  first  time  that  the  fair 
daughter  of  Vaucluse  had  dared  trust  herself  suf- 
ficiently to  ask  the  one  question  that  had  been  upper- 
most in  her  mind  all  these  months.  She  had  long  since 
received  the  letter  which  Burton  had  written  her  from 
the  "What  Cheer  House"  in  San  Francisco,  in  which  he 
had  merely  stated,  in  language  wherein  he  had  not 
sought  to  spare  himself,  the  plain  facts  which  had  led  to 
his  resignation  from  the  army.  Still  that  explanation 
had  never  served  to  satisfy  her.  Woman-like,  she 
refused  to  accept,  even  from  the  man  she  loved,  an 
explanation  which  reflected  so  sadly  on  him.  Intuitively 
she  felt  that  the  whole  truth  of  the  matter  had  not  yet 
been  revealed  to  her.  Knowing  that  Brett  knew  full 
well  the  relations  she  had  once  sustained  to  his  fellow- 
officer,  she  had  hesitated  long  before  venturing  to  ask 

190 


BRETT'S  RETURN  191 

him  for  a  version  of  the  affair,  which  she  knew  he  must 
have  obtained  from  personal  knowledge  of  the  facts. 
She  had  known  Carl  Brett  from  childhood,  and  she  never 
doubted  for  an  instant  but  what  he  would  tell  her  the 
literal  truth  about  the  whole  sad  affair.  It  was  not 
from  any  misgivings  on  this  score,  that  she  had  hesi- 
tated so  long  in  asking  him  the  question.  It  was  only 
because  of  the  constraint  she  felt  in  mentioning  a  name 
which  hitherto — for  obvious  reasons — had  never  been 
mentioned  between  them.  She  knew  full  well  that  both 
of  these  men  loved  her,  and  her  woman's  heart  in  a  way 
recoiled  at  asking,  even  in  this  indirect  manner,  that  one 
should  sit  in  judgment  on  the  other.  But  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  have  the  story  from  Brett,  and  so  the 
question  had  been  asked  and  was  now  about  to  be 
answered.  Brett  knew  that  the  question,  sooner  or 
later,  would  be  asked  and  he  had  schooled  himself 
for  the  arrival  of  that  time.  He  had  studied  his  part 
well,  and  with  a  view  of  meeting  the  question  in  such  a 
way  as  to  disarm  criticism  on  her  part.  So  he  answered 
her  in  this  wise: 

"Burton  was  a  good  officer  and  there  was  general 
regret  felt  to  have  him  leave  the  army  as  he  did,  under 
a  cloud.  His  record  in  the  Mexican  War  was  fine,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  his  after-career  should 
not  have  been  equally  creditable.  The  way  the  affair 
happened  was  this :  There  was  a  lieutenant  in  Burton's 
company  by  the  name  of  Cass.  He  was  a  reckless,  un- 
principled sort  of  a  chap,  who  would  do  most  anything 
to  accomplish  his  own  ends.  Knowing  that  Burton 
alone  stood  between  him  and  promotion  to  the  captaincy 


192  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

of  the  company,  he  set  about  in  a  particularly  cold- 
blooded sort  of  way,  to  force  him  out  of  the  army. 
Burton,  like  most  of  the  officers  at  the  fort,  was  accus- 
tomed to  occasionally  take  a  little  whisky  to  brace  him 
up,  on  some  of  the  cold,  foggy  days,  that  came  with  too 
great  frequency  at  that  cheerless  post.  In  so  doing,  he 
was,  of  course,  guilty  of  no  breach  of  military  rules  and 
regulations.  The  only  difference  between  him  and  the 
rest  of  us,  was,  that  a  very  little  liquor  sufficed  to  put 
him  off  his  balance. 

"There  was  not  an  officer  or  enlisted  man  at  that  post 
who  was  so  easily  affected.  Of  course,  this  fact  was 
known  to  Cass,  as  it  was  common  knowledge  among  all 
the  officers,  who  were  stationed  at  Humboldt  that 
year.  It  should  have  made  him  cautious  about  using  it, 
but  it  seems  to  have  been  otherwise.  For  Cass  succeeded 
one  day  in  getting  him  loaded  with  apple  brandy,  just 
before  he  went  on  duty  with  his  company,  and  then,  as 
officer  of  the  day,  reported  him  to  our  colonel  as  drunk 
while  in  the  performance  of  his  duty.  'Old  Bent,'  as  we 
called  our  commanding  officer,  was  the  worst  martinet  in 
the  army,  and  instead  of  giving  him  a  chance,  as  almost 
any  other  officer  in  his  place  would  have  done,  gave  him 
the  choice  of  either  resigning  or  standing  court-martial. 
Burton  chose,  and  probably  wisely,  to  resign,  for  a 
court-martial  could  only  have  had  but  one  result,  and 
that  was  to  publish  to  the  army  that  he  had  been  drunk 
while  on  duty.  As  it  is,  the  story  has  been  retailed  al- 
ready from  post  to  post,  until  the  facts  have  become 
common  knowledge  in  every  post,  both  east  and  west. 
Bad  news,  you  know,  travels  faster  than  good  every 


BRETT'S  RETURN  193 

time,"  remarked  Brett,  in  a  cynical  tone,  as  he  finished 
his  narrative. 

As  Sallie  Custis  listened  to  the  story  from  Brett's  lips 
she  realized  how  apparently  hopeless  was  the  secret  wish 
of  her  heart,  that  Burton  might  some  time  again  later 
enter  the  army,  and  redeem  his  tarnished  name.  But 
she  knew  how  deep-rooted  were  the  prejudices  of  the 
army  in  such  matters,  and  she  reluctantly  admitted  that 
should  he  do  so,  the  odds  would  be  much  against  him. 
Then,  woman-like,  feeling  that  her  resentment  must 
have  some  vent,  she  turned  to  Brett,  and  said :  "Carl, 
who,  in  your  opinion,  was  the  real  culprit  in  this  case, 
the  man  who  suffered  the  disgrace,  or  the  cur  who  first 
tempted  him,  and  then  himself  wrought  his  ruin?" 

Seldom  does  it  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  man  to  sit  in  judg- 
ment on  himself,  as  it  did  that  day  to  the  proud  young 
Virginian.  He  had  already  gone  into  the  mire  once, 
and  his  better  self  revolted  against  a  second  experi- 
ence of  that  sort.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  found  that 
he  hesitated  for  words,  and  he  would  have  given 
worlds  to  have  escaped  the  ordeal.  But  the  young 
woman  by  his  side  held  him  to  it.  "Carl,  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  a  man  who  would  do  as  Cass  did  to  Captain 
Burton.  Tell  me  the  truth  as  you  in  your  inmost  soul 
conceive  it  to  be."  As  Sallie  Custis  uttered  these 
words,  her  eyes  met  Brett's  in  a  look  which  seemed  to 
read  his  innermost  thoughts.  Had  he  faltered  even  an 
instant  longer,  had  he  made  a  single  false  step  at  this 
moment,  the  girl  at  his  side  would  have  been  lost  to  him 
forever.  But  in  the  stress  of  the  emergency,  his  nerve 
came  back  to  him,  and  he  replied,  in  words  that  she  re- 


194  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

called  with  crushing  distinctness  in  after-years :  "The 
man  who  would  do  as  Cass  did  is  a  cur,  and  if  the  truth 
were  known,  he  would  be  ostracized  forever  after  in  the 
army." 

"Carl,  from  this  day  Captain  Burton's  name  is  never 
to  be  mentioned  again  between  us.  It  is  needless  for  me 
to  give  my  reasons  for  this.  They  are  known  to  you. 
He  belongs  to  my  past.  The  chapter  of  my  life, 
wherein  he  figured  so  largely,  is  to-day  to  be  closed  for- 
ever. But  let  me  say  just  this  one  last  word  that  you 
may  never  misunderstand  my  reason  for  never  mention- 
ing his  name,  or  permitting  you  to  mention  it  in  my 
presence.  You  know  that  I  gave  him  my  perfect  trust, 
and  that  he  betrayed  it.  He  has  lost  himself  and  me 
with  it.  He  has  been  outwardly  disgraced  in  the  army 
and  will  doubtless  find  it  difficult  to  live  that  disgrace 
down  in  any  community  wherein  he  may  seek  to  redeem 
himself.  And  yet  to  me,  he  will  always  be  as  I  knew 
him  once,  not  as  the  world  knows  him  now.  It  has 
seemed  best  to  me,  that  you  should  tell  me  what  you 
have,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  wanted  the  assurance 
from  your  own  lips,  that  you  had  no  part,  either  in 
thought,  word  or  deed,  in  the  downfall  of  one  who  has 
been  my  very  dear  friend,  and  who  has  never  had  for 
you  but  the  very  kindest  thoughts.  I  doubt  not  for  a 
moment  but  that  if  you  had  been  given  the  opportunity, 
you  would  have  helped  him  in  his  trouble,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, spared  him  the  disgrace  of  it  all.  Anyhow,  I  have 
yet  to  learn  of  a  single  mean  or  dishonorable  act  of  Carl 
Brett's." 


BRETT'S  RETURN  195 

» 

That  night,  many  hours  after  he  had  left  her  side, 
Brett  tossed  sleeplessly  from  side  to  side,  in  a  death- 
grapple  with  that  merciless  enemy  of  the  evil-doer, 
which  we  term  "Remorse." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THK  BETROTHAL 

THE  two  years  that  followed  Brett's  resignation 
from  the  army  were  busy  ones  for  him.  Between  politics 
and  the  business  cares  with  which  his  father  entrusted 
him,  his  life  was  once  of  ceaseless  activity.  Represent- 
ing, as  he  did,  in  his  person,  not  only  the  heir  to  a  great 
fortune  and  honored  name,  but  the  possessor  of  an  hon- 
orable record  as  a  soldier  as  well,  he  found  the  doors  of 
political  preferment  opening  easily  before  him.  Within 
two  years  from  his  retirement  from  a  soldier's  life,  he 
found  himself  both  nominated  and  elected  to  represent 
his  home  district  in  bhe  Congress  of  the  United  States. 
All  prophesied  for  him  a  most  brilliant  career.  In  the 
opinion  of  many  there  was  no  office  in  the  gift  of  the 
people  too  high  for  him  to  hope  to  attain.  In  the  con- 
flict which  even  now  was  seen  to  be  inevitable,  it  was  felt 
that  in  him  the  South  would  find  both  a  safe  and  capable 
leadership.  But  neither  the  praise  of  friends  or  the 
adulation  of  family,  made  this  gifted  son  of  the  Old 
Dominion  forget  that  he  had  long  had  other  ambitions 
than  those  of  a  political  nature.  Fond  as  he  was  of 
wealth  and  power  and  business,  with  aspirations  for 
high  position,  he  nevertheless  cherished  closer  than  all 

196 


THE  BETROTHAL  197 

these  the  desire  to  some  day  claim  Sallie  Custis  for  his 
wife.  And  he  had  some  reason  to  hope  that  this  day 
was  not  now  far  distant.  All  that  her  family  and  his 
could  do  to  further  a  fondly  hoped-for  union  had  been 
done.  Throughout  the  country-side,  among  her  friends 
and  his,  their  names  had  now  been  linked  together  as 
persons  who  sooner  or  later  would  take  up  life  to- 
gether. Brett  had  long  since  had  the  tacit  consent,  at 
least,  of  all  concerned,  save  that  of  the  young  lady  her- 
self. As  to  her  own  feelings  on  the  subject  he  still  had 
many  misgivings.  He  understood  her  far  too  well  to 
take  anything  for  granted  on  that  score.  The  policy 
of  waiting,  which  he  had  so  long  adopted  in  her  case, 
could  not  go  on  much  longer.  He  was  now  a  man  past 
early  manhood,  with  the  serious  work  of  life  full  upon 
him.  She,  too,  had  become  a  fully  matured  woman,  one 
fully  able  to  think  and  act  for  herself.  So,  just  before 
the  time  came  for  him  to  go  to  attend  his  first  session  as 
a  member  of  Congress,  he  called  on  her  one  afternoon  in 
November,  just  the  day  before  he  was  to  leave  for 
Washington.  She  herself  was  to  remain  at  Vaucluse 
until  after  the  holidays,  when  the  family  would  go  to 
Washington,  while  Judge  Custis  was  in  attendance  on 
his  Senatorial  duties  in  Washington.  In  response  to 
the  word  that  was  sent  her,  she  came  down  and  greeted 
him  cordially,  as  was  her  wont.  "I  am  glad  you 
dropped  in,  Carl,"  she  said,  "for  I  wanted  to  wish  you 
success  in  your  political  career.  While  I,  personally, 
always  favored  a  soldier's  career  for  you,  I  realize  that 
in  your  case  it  was  probably  wise  for  you  to  go  back  to 
civil  life.  Father  told  me  only  yesterday  that  the  South 


198  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

was  in  sore  need  of  just  such  men  as  you,  in  these  times, 
when  so  many  are  prophesying  a  war  between  the 
sections." 

"Sallie,  have  you  never  guessed*  that  I  gave  up  the 
army  more  for  your  sake  than  for  any  other  reason?" 

"How  is  that,  Carl?"  was  her  response,  as  she  met  his 
eager  gaze  with  a  calm,  inquiring  glance. 

"Well,  it  was  just  this  way  with  me.  I  never  could 
figure  out  that  there  was  much  in  life  for  me,  unless  you 
would  share  it  with  me.  As  childhood  playmates,  «we 
shared  our  toys  and  pets  together,  sotnow,  as  man  and 
woman,  I  want  to  share  all  I  have,  or  hope  to  gain,  with 
you.  You  have  known  it  all  these  years.  I  told  you  of 
my  love  when  I  returned  from  the  war  with  Mexico. 
You  refused  me  then,  yet  all  these  years  I  have  continued 
to  hope.  With  you  by  my  side,  I  can  do  anything. 
All  that  I  have  or  hope  to  be,  I  lay  at  your  .feet. 
Wealth,  position  and  power  count  as  nothing  to  me 
unless  with  it  all  I  can  have  your  own  dear  self.  Sallie,. 
dear,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

The  woman  to  whom  these  burning  words  were  ad- 
dressed had  long  known  that,  sooner  or  later,  this 
avowal  would  come,  and  that  she  must  answer  it  once 
for  all,  yes  or  no.  And  yet,  true  to  her  womanliness,, 
she  had  never  permitted  herself  to  come  to  a  decision, 
until  the  crisis  was  before  her.  Now  it  was  here,  and 
had  found  her,  as  it  were,  unprepared.  Even  as  he  was 
speaking,  there  came  to  her  mind  the  memory  of  that 
chapter  of  her  past  whose  wounds  were  not  yet  healed. 
After  that  experience,  had  she  anything  left  to  give, 
which  would  satisfy  this  masterful  man,  who  was  even 


THE  BETROTHAL  199 

now  pleading  his  cause  so  powerfully  and  well?  Was 
it  possible  to  bestow,  intact,  that  which  had  been  once 
given  to  another?  Could  she,  who  had  clung  so  tena- 
ciously to  her  ideals,  cast  them  all  aside,  and  become 
sordid  and  worldly,  like  so  many  of  her  weaker  sisters? 
And  yet,  why  should  she  ruin  her  own  happiness  and 
that  of  her  family,  for  the  sake  of  one  who  had  been 
unworthy  of  her  love?  One  who,  for  the  sake  of  satis- 
fying a  base  appetite,  had  wantonly — as  she  believed — 
sacrificed  not  only  his  own  future,  but  hers  as  well.  Had 
not  this  "other  one,"  who  belonged  irrevocably  to  her 
past,  whether  she  would  have  it  so  or  not,  bartered,  for 
a  mess  of  pottage,  the  birthright  of  love,  which  she  had 
so  freely  and  wholly  given  to  him?  She  was  ambitious, 
and  rightly  so.  Why  should  she  not  take  possession  of 
what  was  so  freely  offered  her,  and  share  in  the  glory 
and  pleasure  of  a  great  career  ?  The  match  would  be  the 
realization  of  her  father's  and  mother's  fondest  wish, 
and  she  loved  them  dearly.  The  world  would  look  upon 
it  with  unmixed  favor,  and  not  a  protest  would  be  raised 
in  any  quarter.  Should  she  do  it?  Tradition,  family 
pride,  intellect  and  ambition  all  said  yes,  the  heart, 
unaided  and  alone,  said  no.  Even  then  she  would  have 
listened  to  her  better,  truer  nature — have  still  clung  to 
her  ideals — had  not  the  thought  of  that  disgraceful 
scene  at  Fort  Humboldt  came  to  her  at  that  moment. 
She  remembered  so  well  her  last  words  to  Burton :  "I 
have  given  you  my  love.  Treasure  it  well."  And  this 
was  her  reward.  He  had  cared  more,  apparently,  for 
satisfying  his  sensual  appetites  than  for  her  love.  The 
thought  rankled  so  in  her  bosom,  that  there  came  to  her 


200  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

a  thing  which  rarely  ever  entered  into  her  pure  mind  and 
heart — a  feeling  of  resentment  and  anger.  Under  its 
influence,  she  answered  Brett's  question: 

"Carl,  if  you  will  accept  the  hand  without  the  full 
surrender  of  the  heart  that  should  go  with  it,  you  may 
take  it.  It  is  all  I  can  give  now.  Perhaps  as  the  years 
pass,  the  fuller  love  will  come.  Let  us  hope,  for  your 
sake  and  mine,  it  may." 

What  man  of  Brett's  sanguine  and  proud  tempera- 
ment ever  doubted  that  all  else  would  follow  when 
he  had  a  woman's  promise  that  some  day  she  should  be 
his?  He  went  away  from  Vaucluse  that  afternoon  ex- 
ultant, without  one  misgiving  in  his  heart.  Why  should 
he  not  exult?  Was  he  not  the  affianced  lover  of  one 
of  the  fairest  daughters  of  the  South — that  home  of 
beautiful  women? 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MARRIAGE  BELLS 

IT  was  New  Year's  eve  in  Washington.  It  was  also 
the  wedding  night  of  the  only  daughter  of  Judge 
Custis  to  Carl  Grimke  Brett,  Congressman-elect  from 
the  Third  Virginia  District.  To  this  event  had  been 
invited  all  who  could  rightfully  claim  distinction  either 
in  official  or  private  social  life  of  Washington.  Members 
of  the  cabinet,  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Sen- 
ators, members  of  Congress  and  officers  of  the  army 
and  navy,  in  resplendent  uniforms,  were  present  in  large 
numbers. 

The  night  of  the  wedding  was  cold,  blustery  and 
stormy.  Snow  was  falling  in  fitful  gusts,  as  carriage 
after  carriage  with  wedding  guests  stopped  at  the  door 
of  the  beautiful  home  on  Dupont  Circle.  And  what 
of  the  bride  in  whose  honor  they  were  now  assembling  ? 

Was  she  happy  on  this,  her  wedding  day?  That  was 
a  question  that  could  only  be  answered  by  the  bride  her- 
self. Were  there  no  shadows  across  the  path  which  she 
was  about  to  tread?  From  her  manner  one  could  never 
have  guessed  it,  and  yet  she  was  not  entering  that  holy 
estate  with  all  that  joy  and  exquisite  happiness  which 
she  had  thought  would  be  hers  on  her  marriage  day. 

201 


202  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

But  what  to  the  world  was  an  ideal  match,  was  to  her 
but  the  shattering  of  her  own  ideals.  She  was  not  mar- 
rying the  man  she  loved  best  in  all  the  world.  Try  as 
hard  as  she  might  to  imagine  that  she  had  uprooted  the 
old  love  from  her  heart  and  had  supplanted  it  with  a 
new,  her  own  honest  heart  told  her  that  it  was  not  true. 
Condemn  her  erstwhile  lover  as  she  might,  say  to  herself 
that  he  was  unworthy  of  her  and  had  betrayed  the  great 
trust  that  she  had  bestowed  on  him  so  freely — neverthe- 
less she  knew  that  deep  down  in  the  depths  of  her  own 
warm,  loving  heart,  there  was  a  place  for  him  alone 
which  none  other  could  ever  take  away.  It  had  been  his 
«ver  since  that  day  at  the  riding  academy,  when  she 
knew  that,  as  he  had  mastered  others,  he  had,  unknown 
to  himself,  mastered  her.  That  place  was  his  even  on 
this,  her  wedding  night,  and  it  would  be  his  until  the 
•end  of  the  great  mystery  termed  life.  And  for  an  hour 
that  night  before  the  ceremony  she  shut  herself  away 
from  all  others  and  communed  with  him  alone.  It  was 
the  final  libation  she  was  offering  on  the  ashes  of  a  dead 
love.  "It  would  be  the  last,"  she  said.  "For  to-night 
she  was  free.  Tomorrow  she  would  be  another's,  and 
then,  faithful  to  her  wifely  charge,  she  would  set  her 
eyes  on  the  future  and  forget  the  past — if  she  could." 

And  now  while  the  strains  of  Mendelssohn's  wedding 
march  are  telling  the  guests  that  the  bride  and  groom 
are  coming  to  the  altar,  and  while  the  solemn  vows  are 
being  taken,  which  unite  for  weal  or  woe  Sallie  Custis  to 
Carl  Brett,  let  us  glance  at  another  scene  that  is  taking 
place  close  by. 

On  the  curb  outside,  standing  in  the  shade  of  a  flick- 


MARRIAGE  BELLS  20S 

ering  street  lamp,  unprotected  from  the  elements, 
stands  a  lonely  figure  wrapped  in  an  overcoat  of  faded 
army  blue.  Drawn  thither  from  his  own  desolate  west- 
ern home  by  a  motive  that  is  as  difficult  of  analyzation 
as  of  realization,  Sallie  Custis's  discarded  lover  was, 
unknown  to  her,  standing  a  few  paces  away  from  where 
his  more  fortunate  rival  was  to  lead  her  to  the  altar. 
His  presence  there,  on  such  a  night  and  occasion,  was 
in  a  way  the  same  tribute  that  we  pay  when  we  take  a 
last  look  at  the  face  of  a  departed  friend.  While  she — 
surrounded  by  a  brilliant  circle  of  the  great  of  the  earth 
— was  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the  guests,  in 
the  brilliantly  lighted  home  within — he,  the  all  but 
social  outcast,  was  elbowing  his  way  in  darkness 
through  the  beggars  who  hovered  like  moths  around  this 
festal  scene  of  nuptial  love  and  merriment.  For  her 
that  night  the  wedding  march  whispered  of  a  life  of 
social  brilliancy  as  the  wife  of  one  whose  every  move 
spelled  success,  and  for  whom  the  future  seemed  to  hold 
the  highest  honors.  For  him  the  night  seemed  to  toll  a 
requiem  of  dead  hopes  and  blasted  aspirations.  Failure 
had  long  since  claimed  him  for  her  own.  And  he  waited 
there  in  the  cold  and  falling  snow,  elbowed  by  the  street 
beggars  and  mongrel  throng  of  idle  curiosity-seekers, 
until  the  door  of  the  great  house  opened,  to  allow  the 
newly  married  couple  to  enter  the  carriage,  which  had 
long  been  in  waiting  to  bear  them  to  the  station.  With 
the  rest  of  the  "waifs"  who  were  abroad  that  bitter 
night,  he  was  pushed  roughly  back  by  the  policemen, 
who  sought  to  make  room  for  the  chief  actors  in  the 
wedding  festivities  within.  As  Carl  Brett,  with  his  wife 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

on  his  arm,  came  down  the  steps,  the  patient  watcher 
caught  what  with  an  inexplicable  persistence  he  had 
waited  for  long  that  night — a  glimpse  of  the  bride  her- 
self. She  was  heavily  veiled,  but  it  needed  not  the  fa- 
miliar presence  of  Brett  himself  to  tell  the  one  who  had 
so  long  kept  his  lonely  vigil  on  the  curb,  that  the  woman 
by  his  side  was  Sallie  Custis.  A  moment  later  the  car- 
riage door  is  closed  and  they  are  driven  rapidly  away. 
Then  the  figure  in  the  worn  military  coat  vanished  as 
mysteriously  as  it  had  come,  in  the  darkness  of  the 
winter's  night. 

Long  hours  that  night  this  "man  who  had  failed"  sat 
motionless  before  a  smoldering  grate  fire.  In  his  lap 
are  a  parcel  of  letters,  tied  with  a  faded  blue  ribbon. 
With  them  is  the  faded  bunch  of  violets  which  Sallie 
Custis  had  given  him  on  the  day  when  he  wrested  from 
Brett  the  laurels  in  the  riding  contest  Commencement 
week.  On  his  face  could  be  seen  no  play  of  emotions, 
only  a  dull,  hopeless  expression  as  if  the  sands  of  time 
had  for  him  about  run  out.  As  if  life  itself  had  become 
one  of  bare  animal  existence,  without  hope  or  compen- 
sation. But  suddenly  there  came  into  that  careworn 
face  a  look  as  tender  and  sweet  as  that  of  a  woman  to 
her  first-born  babe.  He  pressed  the  faded  flowers  to  his 
lips,  kissed  them  once  more  long  and  reverently,  then 
threw  them  with  the  letters  into  the  ashes.  In  a  moment 
they  had  caught  fire,  and  he  watched  them  until  the  last 
flame  had  died  out.  Fit  symbol  of  the  vanishing  of  life's 
fondest  hopes  and  deepest  aspirations. 


CHAPTER  XXVIH 

THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM 

TWELVE  years  have  elapsed  since  the  day  of  the  mar- 
riage of  Sallie  Custis  to  Carl  Grimke  Brett.  The  latter 
has  prospered  greatly  during  all  these  years,  until  it 
could  be  truthfully  said,  that  few  had  more  influence 
than  he  in  the  political  party  to  which  he  belonged. 
He  stood  among  the  foremost  leaders  of  the  South  in 
those  troublesome  times  of  '60-'61,  when  the  leadership 
carried  with  it  the  gravest  responsibilities. 

And  what  of  the  other — the  Northerner — whose  for- 
tunes have  ebbed  so  low  since  the  day  he  resigned  from 
the  army  to  take  up  civil  life? 

The  story  of  Burton's  life  during  these  years  had 
been,  on  the  surface,  at  least,  a  most  unsuccessful  one. 
Save  for  the  failures  which  followed  each  new  attempt 
on  his  part  to  solve  the  problem  of  making  a  livelihood, 
it  had  been  uneventful  in  the  extreme.  There  had  been 
for  him  "no  listening  Senates"  to  hold  and  command. 
He  had  first  tried  farming,  in  an  earnest,  manly  effort 
to  earn  his  living  from  the  soil.  Surely  this  was  for  him 
a  reversion  to  first  principles  and  one  that  promised 
success.  He  stripped  the  land  of  its  timber  and  grubbed 
it  carefully.  But  somehow  the  crops  always  failed.  In 

205 


206  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

winter  he  chopped  wood  with  his  own  hands,  loaded  it  on 
a  wagon,  and  hauled  it  to  the  neighboring  city,  where 
he  offered  it  for  sale  in  the  open  market.  In  quick  suc- 
cession, he  had  tried  real  estate,  insurance  and  clerking 
in  a  store,  and  in  each  had  been  equally  unsuccessful. 
And  so  the  years  for  him  had  drifted  by,  finding  him  at 
thirty-nine,  a  man  without  a  profession,  or  a  trade,  that 
he  could  call  his  own.  Aside  from  experience,  he  had 
accumulated  nothing  during  all  this  time. 

In  the  early  winter  of  1860-61  there  rode  out  to 
Burton's  home,  one  snowy  day,  a  horseman  dressed  in 
the  fatigue  uniform  of  a  captain  of  infantry.  The 
rider  drove  up  to  the  gate,  there  dismounted  and 
tied  his  horse.  Then,  with  a  long,  swinging  stride,  he 
went  to  the  door  of  the  house  and  knocked.  Burton 
opened  the  door,  and  at  the  same  moment  exclaimed: 
"Well,  Dad,  is  it  you?  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you !" 

It  was,  indeed,  his  old  West  Point  chum,  "Dad" 
Rankin,  who  had  braved  the  storm  that  cold  winter 
morning,  in  order  to  invite  him  to  a  dinner  at  his  hotel 
that  night,  to  which  all  the  West  Pointers  of  their  day 
who  were  now  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  had  been  in- 
vited. With  some  evident  hesitation,  Burton  replied : 

"Dad,  I  appreciate  more  than  I  have  words  to  ex- 
press, your  coming  out  here  to-day.  This  meeting  with 
you  has  brought  with  it  more  happiness  than  I  have 
known  for  many  a  day.  I  would  like  to  meet  once  more 
the  old  army  friends,  but  I  fear  they  don't  want  me. 
They  are  successful  men,  Dad,  and  you  know  successful 
men  have  no  time  for  failures.  No,  that  is  how  they 
regard  me,  and  it  is  probably  best  that  I  should  deny 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM        207 

myself  the  pleasure  of  being  with  you  at  that  dinner 
rather  than  find  myself  where  I  am  not  wanted. 

"For  ten  years  now  I  have  been  practically  out  of  the 
world  and  forgotten.  Occasionally,  but  only  at  rare 
intervals,  I  have  met  on  my  few  visits  to  neighboring 
cities,  some  old  army  comrade,  but  never  for  more  than 
a  few  moments'  chat.  Since  my  resignation  from  the 
army,  I  have  scarcely  known  what  it  is  to  meet  army 
men  on  a  social  footing.  These  things,  coupled  with  the 
circumstances  which  led  to  my  resignation  from  the 
army — all  of  which  I  know  full  well  have  been  widely 
circulated  in  every  army  post  in  the  country  where  I 
am  known — make  me  disinclined  to  embrace  this  oppor- 
tunity to  renew  the  friendships  of  my  cadet  and  army 
days." 

But  "Dad"  Rankin  was  not  the  sort  of  a  man  to  take 
"no"  for  an  answer,  and  he  all  but  dragged  his  former 
classmate  off  with  him  to  the  hotel  in  the  neighboring 
city,  where  the  dinner  was  to  be  held.  So  that  night 
found  "Dad"  Rankin,  Joe  Reynolds,  Nat  Lyon,  Don 
Carlos  Buell,  Chaffee,  Beale,  Prince  and  Burton  all 
gathered  around  the  festive  board  together. 

In  the  course  of  the  talk  which  followed  Burton  heard 
Brett's  name  frequently  mentioned  among  others,  and 
learned  that  he  had  every  reason  to  hope  soon  for  an 
election  to  the  United  States  Senate.  He  had  already 
become  a  national  figure  and  was  counted  as  one  of  the 
most  bitter  and  irreconcilable  of  the  Southern  Congress- 
men. All  those  present  at  the  hotel  that  night  were 
known  to  be  "true  blue  Union  men"  in  sentiment,  and  so 
the  discussion  of  the  political  situation  and  of  the  civil 


208  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

conflict  which  all  knew  to  be  fast  approaching,  was 
free  and  unreserved.  Of  all  those  present,  Burton  alone 
had  estimated  aright  the  fighting  spirit  and  soldierly 
qualities  of  the  Southern  men. 

"If  the  conflict  comes,"  he  said,  in  his  calm,  intense 
manner,  "it  will  be  no  ninety-day  affair,  as  some  of  you 
seem  to  imagine." 

"Burton  is  right,"  exclaimed  a  florid-faced  man  of 
forty  and  over,  with  a  reddish  beard,  broad,  high  fore- 
head and  keen,  deep  blue  eyes.  This  was  Lyon,  the 
Connecticut  Yankee,  who  had  graduated  from  West 
Point  in  '41. 

Rarely  would  you  meet  a  more  extraordinary  man 
than  "Nat"  Lyon.  The  discussion  which  was  taking 
place  around  him  had  aroused  him  thoroughly,  and  he 
now  proceeded  to  speak  with  great  vehemence. 

"Gentlemen,  I  for  one  do  not  believe  in  compromising 
or  treating  with  men  who  are  plotting  treason.  I  will 
see  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  Missouri  under  the 
sod  before  I  will  consent  that  Jackson  or  Price,  or  any 
other  tool  of  the  secession  leaders,  shall  dictate  to  the 
government  of  the  United  States  as  to  what  shall  be 
done  with  the  Federal  troops  under  my  command.  If 
this  war  does  come,  it  will  be  brought  on  by  the  extre- 
mists of  both  sections,  and  I  admit  that  I  belong  to  this 
class.  But  this  secession  crowd  forgets  that  concilia- 
tion, the  spirit  of  compromise,  common  interest  and 
mutual  charity  are  the  foundations  of  all  true  govern- 
ment of  and  by  the  people.  And  I,  for  one,  am  willing 
if  necessary  to  take  up  my  sword  even  against  my  own 
countrymen.  And  for  what,  you  ask?  To  efface  any 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM        209 

insult  that  may  be  offered  to  the  flag,  to  save  the  coun- 
try from  the  deathblow  of  disunion,  to  enforce  the 
supremacy  of  the  constitution,  to  maintain  the  national 
existence ;  for  these  and  for  more  will  I  gladly  offer  my 
life  on  the  altar  of  my  country's  cause. 

"I,  for  one,  am  unwilling  to  stand  by  and  see  a  gov- 
ernment, created  by  all,  destroyed  by  a  part.  Before 
that  shall  occur  I  and  a  million  other  men  will  march 
beneath  the  old  flag,  not  merely  that  some  of  its  imper- 
ishable stars  may  not  be  dimmed,  not  merely  that  its 
folds  may  fly  unchallenged  from  the  Gulf  to  the  Lakes, 
but  that  on  its  folds  may  ultimately  be  written  the 
words,  'Let  us  have  peace.'  I  care  nothing  for  the 
pride,  the  form  or  circumstance  of  war.  It  matters 
little  to  me  whether  the  eagle  or  the  stars  rest  on  my 
shoulders.  But  I  want  to  feel,  in  the  evening  of  my  life, 
if  I  am  spared  until  then,  that  I  have  defended  the  law 
and  helped  to  preserve  the  peace  of  this  great  land.  In 
America  every  door  is  opened  to  him  who  can  gain  the 
strength  and  wisdom  to  open  it.  On  equal  terms  and 
with  equal  opportunities,  we  can  enjoy  in  after-life,  not 
the  glory  which  our  fathers  gave  us,  but  that  which  we 
ourselves  are  able  to  win." 

In  the  days  to  come,  long  after  the  speaker  had  fallen 
so  gloriously  leading  his  troops  at  Wilson's  Creek,  those 
who  sat  around  the  table  this  night  recalled  to  mind  the 
ringing  words  of  the  fearless  soldier.  Call  him  aboli- 
tionist, extremist  or  fanatic  as  you  will,  his  was  a  great 
life.  Boundless  laurels  would  undoubtedly  have  been 
his  had  he  lived  to  the  termination  of  the  conflict.  But 
history  will  not  forget  him.  A  truer,  more  patriotic, 


210  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

better  soldier  never  lived  than  Lyon.  In  the  years  to 
come  our  country  will  be  proud  of  the  fact  that  she  had 
such  sons  and  grieve  that  she  has  lost  them,  and  prayers 
will  be  offered  that  she  may  have  more  like  them. 

Many  were  the  speculations  that  were  made  that 
night  as  to  how  certain  men,  whose  families  or  associa- 
tions had  been  with  the  South,  would  go.  All  were 
agreed  that  Scott  would,  of  course,  stay  with  the  Union. 
As  to  his  favorite,  Lee,  some  doubt  was  expressed  as  to 
what  his  course  would  be.  Common  report  had  it,  that 
if  Scott's  age  should  prevent  his  taking  upon  himself 
the  responsibilities  of  supreme  command,  that  then  it 
would  be  offered  to  Lee.  It  was  also  reported  that  Lee 
had  said,  on  at  least  one  occasion,  recently,  that  if  Vir- 
ginia should  stand  by  the  Union,  he  would  do  the  same. 
But  if  she  should  secede,  that  then  he  would  follow  his 
native  state  into  the  ranks  of  the  confederacy.  In  this 
case,  it  would  be  necessary  to  find  some  one  else  to  take 
up  the  burden  of  leadership  for  the  federal  army.  In 
this  connection  the  names  mentioned  most  frequently  by 
those  present  around  the  table  that  night  in  the  Plant- 
ers Hotel,  were  McClellan,  Thomas,  McDowell,  Kearney 
and  Fremont.  As  to  the  two  Johnstons  and  Beaure- 
gard,  the  opinion  was  freely  expressed  that  they  would 
go  with  the  South. 

And  so  the  discussion  lasted  until  long  after  mid- 
night. All  agreed  that  the  conflict  was  sure  to  come. 
It  was  merely  a  question  of  time.  And  when  the  hour 
arrived,  the  country  must  lean  on  those  of  her  sons 
whom  she  had  educated  at  West  Point,  for  just  such 
emergencies  as  these.  To  Burton  the  crisis  promised 


what  he  had  longed  for  every  day  since  his  resignation 
— a  return  to  the  army.  He  craved  the  companionship 
of  men  of  his  own  type.  He  did  not  like  to  live  apart 
from  his  fellows.  His  wishes  were  destined  to  be  realized 
sooner  than  he,  or  any  of  the  little  company  assembled 
there  that  night,  even  dreamed.  Nine  days  later  South 
Carolina  passed  the  ordinance  of  secession. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE    CALL   TO   ARMS 

ONE  evening  in  April,  1861,  as  Burton  was  preparing 
with  his  own  hands  his  simple  supper,  in  the  humble 
quarters  where  he  had  taken  up  his  abode,  one  of  his 
neighbors  driving  past  stopped  and  spoke  to  him  from 
the  highway: 

"Captain,  I  have  some  news  for  you." 

Burton  stepped  to  the  door  and  inquired,  in  his  quiet 
tone,  what  the  visitor  had  to  tell. 

"Fort  Sumter  was  fired  upon  yesterday  by  General 
Beauregard,  and  the  regulars  in  the  garrison,  under 
Anderson,  answered  his  fire." 

Then,  without  waiting  to  hear  the  comment  that 
might  be  made  on  this  fateful  bit  of  news,  the  neighbor 
passed  on  to  tell  others.  For  the  moment  Burton  was 
stunned  with  the  announcement  and  could  hardly  believe 
his  ears.  Was  it  possible  that  his  old  comrade  in  arms 
of  the  Mexican  War — "Pete"  Beauregard — whom  he 
remembered  so  well,  had  issued  orders  to  fire  upon  the 
flag  of  his  country?  Had  at  last  come  the  irrepressible 
conflict  of  which  so  much  had  been  said  and  written? 
For  a  long  time  that  night  he  sat  before  the  open  fire- 
place, thinking  not  only  of  the  fierce  crisis  which  now 

212 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  213 

confronted  the  nation,  but  also  much  of  his  own  future 
which  seemed  so  dark  and  gruesome.  The  world,  he 
felt,  had  long  since  pronounced  its  verdict  upon  him. 
The  word  "failure"  had  been  written  in  somber  letters 
over  his  name.  It  was  said  of  him,  he  knew,  that  he  was 
weighed  in  the  great  moral  balance  and  found  wanting. 
If  he  but  enlisted  for  the  war  which  he  now  knew  was 
imminent,  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  in  the  mad  rush 
for  place  and  preferment  he  would  be  forgotten.  Never- 
theless his  duty  seemed  clear.  The  country — that  gov- 
ernment which  had  educated  him  as  a  soldier  and  to 
which  he  had  sworn  allegiance — needed  him  in  its  hour 
of  travail.  He  could  offer  his  life  for  his  country. 
This  at  least  could  not  be  refused  him. 

So  he  journeyed,  the  next  day,  to  the  capital  of  the 
State  wherein  he  now  made  his  home,  there  to  offer  his 
services  to  his  adopted  State,  which  he  knew  would  soon 
be  busily  engaged  in  enlisting  regiments  in  the  service. 
Once  there  he  found  the  officers  in  a  furore  of  excite- 
ment. Every  one  was  talking  of  war  and  of  i'cs  possible 
outcome.  Again,  he  heard  the  names  of  many  of  his 
old  comrades  in  arms  mentioned  in  connection  with  the 
subject  of  leadership  of  that  mighty  army  which  would 
soon  be  mustered  in.  Scott,  the  veteran  of  two  wars, 
although  too  old  for  active  service,  was  unquestionably 
for  the  Union.  Wool  was  probably  loyal;  of  Twiggs* 
attitude  grave  doubts  were  expressed.  Cooper,  the  two 
Johnstons  and  Beauregard  had  already  gone  with  the 
South.  Many  and  diverse  were  the  opinions  expressed 
as  to  the  steps  that  might  be  taken  by  the  other  West 
Pointers  who  hailed  from  Southern  States.  But  amidst 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

it  all  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  for  him  to  do.  That 
night  he  sat  down  in  his  room  and  wrote  the  following 
letter : 

To  COL.  LORENZO  THOMAS, 

Adjutant-General  U.  S.  A.,  Washington,  D.  C. 
Sir:  After  serving  for  fifteen  years  in  the  regular 
army,  including  four  years  at  West  Point,  and  feeling 
it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  who  has  been  educated  at 
the  Government's  expense  to  offer  his  services  for  that 
Government,  I  have  the  honor  very  respectfully  to  offer 
my  services  until  the  close  of  the  war  in  such  capacity 
as  may  be  afforded.  I  would  say  in  view  of  my  present 
age  and  length  of  service  that  I  feel  myself  competent 
to  command  a  regiment  if  the  President  in  his  judgment 
should  see  fit  to  entrust  one  to  me. 

I  am,  your  obedient  servant, 

SAMUEL  BURTON. 

This  completed,  he  mailed  it,  and  rested  that  night  in 
the  belief  that  the  government  would  certainly  find 
something  for  him  to  do.  But  the  days  came  and  went 
and  no  answer  was  received.  Apparently  the  nation  had 
no  need  for  his  services.  Then  he  applied  to  the  Gov- 
ernor of  his  adopted  State.  This  time  his  appeal  was 
not  in  vain.  The  Governor  had  noticed  the  quiet,  un- 
obtrusive individual  who  had  for  some  time  been  helping 
him  to  organize  the  State  troops.  The  Congressman 
from  Burton's  district  had  recommended  him  for  a 
position,  but  for  a  time  at  least  it  seemed  that  his 
political  influence  carried  no  weight.  In  a  conversation 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  215 

with  a  friend,  Burton  said :  "I  left  the  army  expecting 
never  to  return.  I  am  no  seeker  for  a  position,  but  the 
country  which  educated  me  is  in  sore  peril  and  as  a 
man  of  honor  I  feel  bound  to  offer  my  services  for  what- 
ever they  are  worth.  However,  I  feel  this  is  no  place 
for  me.  I  will  not  be  an  office-seeker  and  I  cannot 
afford  to  stay  here  idle." 

"Hold  on  a  little,  Captain,"  replied  his  friend, 
"everything  can't  be  done  in  a  minute.  Have  patience. 
Remember  all  things  come  to  him  who  waits.  We  need 
just  such  men  as  you,  men  of  military  education  and 
experience.  Wouldn't  you  like  the  command  of  one  of 
the  regiments  of  State  troops  ?  As  things  are  going,  I 
don't  know  why  you  are  not  entitled  to  a  colonelcy  as 
well  as  any  one." 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  replied  Burton  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  "I  would  rather  like  a  regiment,  yet  there  are 
few  men  really  competent  to  command  a  thousand 
soldiers  and  I  doubt  whether  I  am  one  of  them." 

A  few  days  later  the  Governor  met  this  friend  and 
said  to  him:  "What  kind  of  a  man  is  this  Captain 
Burton?  Though  anxious  to  serve,  he  seems  reluctant 
to  take  any  high  position.  He  even  declined  the  offer 
I  made  him  a  day  or  two  ago  to  recommend  him  to 
Washington  for  a  brigadier-generalship,  saying  that 
he  did  not  want  office  until  he  earned  it.  What  does  he 
want?" 

"The  way  to  deal  with  him,"  replied  the  other,  "is 
to  ask  no  questions,  but  simply  order  him  to  duty.  He 
will  obey  promptly." 

The  day  after  this  conversation  the  Governor  sent 


216  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

for  Captain  Burton,  but  found  he  had  gone  home. 
Thereupon  he  despatched  this  message  to  him:  "You 
are  this  day  appointed  Colonel  of  the  Twenty-first 
Illinois  Volunteers,  and  requested  to  take  the  command 
at  once."  He  promptly  accepted  the  offer  and  his 
commission  was  issued  as  of  June  16th,  1861.  He  was 
much  elated  over  his  appointment,  which  brought  to  his 
mind  vividly  his  ill-success  in  Cincinnati,  to  which  point 
he  had  gone  to  apply  to  his  old  comrade  in  arms, 
McClellan,  for  a  possible  appointment  on  his  staff. 
McClellan  at  this  time  was  looming  up  on  the  military 
horizon  and  was  looked  upon  as  a  future  Napoleon. 
Burton  called  at  his  headquarters  and  found  officers 
rushing  hither  and  thither  as  if  on  errands  of  life  and 
death.  There  was  indeed  so  much  pomp  and  ceremony 
that  McClellan  found  no  time  to  see  his  visitor.  Burton 
waited  several  days  for  an  interview,  and  then  growing 
weary  and  disheartened  he  returned  once  more  to 
the  Illinois  Capital. 

Soon  after  the  news  of  his  appointment  was  received, 
he  took  the  train  for  Springfield  and  reported  at  once 
to  the  Governor.  The  latter  ordered  him  to  assume 
command  of  his  regiment,  which  was  then  at  Springfield. 
The  next  day  the  Twenty-first  Illinois  was  called  out  on 
review  in  order  that  their  new  Colonel  might  assume 
command.  He  was  dressed  in  citizen's  clothes,  an  old 
coat  worn  at  the  elbows,  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  the 
worse  for  wear. 

Certainly  the  first  impression  made  upon  his  com- 
mand by  the  new  Colonel  of  the  Twenty-first  Illinois 
Regiment  was  anything  but  favorable.  The  principal 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  217 

features  of  the  occasion  were  long  and  eloquent  ad- 
dresses by  Congressmen  Logan  and  McClernand.  When 
this  ordeal  had  been  safely  gone  through  with,  the  men 
were  ordered  to  their  quarters.  Before  taking  command, 
Burton  made  a  flying  visit  to  his  home,  where  he  met 
with  the  kindness  of  his  old  friends.  His  regiment  had 
been  mustered  in  for  only  thirty  days,  but  at  the 
expiration  of  that  time  it  reenlisted  for  the  war. 

Soon  after  the  State  of  Missouri  called  for  aid.  The 
Governor  said  to  Burton:  "Colonel,  I  would  send  an- 
other regiment  to  Missouri  if  I  had  transportation,  but 
that  is  wanting."  "Order  mine,"  replied  Burton,  "I 
will  find  transportation."  He  executed  the  order  by 
marching  his  men  on  foot  into  northern  Missouri  as  the 
surest  and  quickest  way  to  make  soldiers  of  them.  On 
their  way  thither,  the  regiment  reached  Salt  River,  Mis- 
souri. From  there  they  were  ordered  to  Florida,  Mis- 
souri, to  search  for  General  Tom  Harris,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  in  that  neighborhood  with  a  large  rebel 
command. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


AFTER  crossing  with  his  men  from  Illinois  to 
northern  Missouri,  Burton  found  himself  in  a  region 
where  the  population  was  equally  divided  in  its  sympa- 
thies between  the  North  and  South.  Missouri  was  one 
of  the  Border  States,  and  was  attempting  at  this  time 
to  join  the  Confederacy.  It  was  the  fixed  purpose  of 
the  National  Government  to  prevent  this,  if  a  possible 
thing.  To  this  end,  Burton's  command  while  en  route 
to  Mexico,  Missouri,  was  met  at  Salt  River,  with  orders 
to  move  at  once  to  Florida,  Missouri,  where  General 
Tom  Harris  was  said  to  be  assembling  a  large  and 
particularly  bloodthirsty  army  of  Southern  sympa- 
thizers. It  was  necessary  to  go  into  camp  a  few  days  at 
Salt  River  in  order  to  wait  for  the  reinforcements 
which  had  been  ordered  up  from  St.  Louis,  to  enable 
Burton  to  move  with  a  force  sufficient  to  annihilate  the 
redoubtable  Harris. 

While  in  camp  at  Salt  River,  a  visitor  presented  him- 
self at  headquarters  and  asked  permission  to  see  Colonel 
Burton.  An  audience  with  this  unassuming  commander 
was  not  as  difficult  to  obtain  as  was  the  case  with  some 

218 


MOVES  AGAINST  THE  ENEMY         219 

of  the  would-be  "Napoleons"  of  that  time,  and  he  was 
soon  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  officer  in  command 
of  all  the  forces  at  Salt  River.  The  latter  was  writing 
at  a  drygoods  box  which  served  as  a  writing-desk  for 
the  Federal  commander.  He  looked  up  as  his  visitor 
was  ushered  in  rather  unceremoniously  by  the  orderly, 
and  a  smile  of  pleased  recognition  overspread  his  coun- 
tenance as  he  rose  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"Well,  Benedict,  it  is  truly  a  pleasure  to  see  you 
again." 

It  was  indeed  his  old  friend  of  Eureka  and  the  one 
who  had  befriended  him  so  loyally  that  night  at  the 
What  Cheer  House  at  San  Francisco.  Dismissing  the 
orderly,  Burton  invited  his  visitor  to  take  the  only  re- 
maining camp  stool,  and  then  followed  a  half  hour  of 
pleasant  chat.  At  the  start  Burton  was  the  questioner 
and  Benedict  was  the  one  who  answered.  All  the  old 
friends  and  acquaintances  at  Fort  Humboldt  and  in  the 
neighboring  village  of  Eureka,  were  each  inquired 
about  in  turn. 

Of  no  one  did  he  inquire  more  solicitously  than  of 
his  friend  James  T.  Ryan,  Benedict's  partner  in  the  mill 
at  Eureka.  The  latter  reported  that  a  short  time  be- 
fore Ryan  had  called  on  President  Lincoln  with  Senator 
McDougall.  The  latter  had  introduced  him  to  the 
President  in  this  wise:  "Mr.  President,  this  is  'Jim* 
Ryan,  who  can  build  a  cathedral  and  preach  in  it,  a 
ship  and  sail  in  it,  or  an  engine  and  run  it." 

Later  the  tables  were  turned  and  Benedict  became 
the  questioner.  "Colonel,  would  you  pardon  what  is  far 
from  mere  curiosity,  if  I  ventured  to  ask  you  to  tell 


220  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

me  something  of  jour  own  life,  since  we  last  parted  in 
Frisco?" 

"Certainly,  Benedict,  you  if  any  one,  deserve  my 
confidence  to  that  extent  at  least.  It  is  now  some 
seven  years  since  I  bade  you  good-by  in  California. 
During  that  time  I  have  tried  my  hand  at  a  little  of 
everything.  First,  I  went  back  to  my  early  vocation 
as  a  farmer  and  tried  that  for  a  while.  Somehow 
things  all  went  wrong  with  me.  Between  crop  failures, 
malaria  and  rheumatism  I  had  a  sorry  enough  time.  In 
the  fall  I  felled  and  cut  timber  and  then  in  winter-time 
I  hauled  the  wood  to  town  and  sold  it  in  the  public  mar- 
ket. Not  a  very  aristocratic  occupation  for  a  West 
Pointer  was  it,  yet  it  was  honest  work,  and  it  provided 
me  with  a  livelihood  at  any  rate.  Later  on  I  tried  the 
real  estate  business  and  was  a  glorious  failure  at  it. 
When  the  war  broke  out  I  was  farming,  but  I  never 
cared  for  it.  After  trying  to  get  a  place  on  the  staff 
of  my  old  army  friend  McClellan  and  having  failed,  I 
finally  wrote  to  the  Adjutant-General  at  Washington 
offering  my  services  direct  to  the  Government.  The 
receipt  of  my  letter  was  not  even  acknowledged.  Prob- 
ably the  politicians  were  being  fitted  out  with  commis- 
sions at  that  time  and  there  was  no  time  to  give  to 
a  veteran  officer  of  the  Mexican  War.  But  later, 
Governor  Yates  was  kind  enough,  thanks  to  my  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  him  and  the  recommendation  of 
a  few  friends,  to  appoint  me  Colonel  of  the  Twenty-first 
Illinois  Volunteers.  Just  at  present,  I  am  rather 
reluctantly  leading  that  regiment  into  what  we,  one  and 


MOVES  AGAINST  THE  ENEMY 

all,  suspect  to  be  the  'jaws  of  death,'  otherwise  known 
as  Tom  Harris's  clutches." 

Benedict  smiled  at  the  grim  humor  of  the  last  remark, 
and  then  proceeded  to  comment  briefly  on  the  story  of 
the  one,  with  whose  destiny  his  own  seemed  so  strangely 
intermingled. 

"Colonel,  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence  and  may 
I  add  that  I  believe  the  future  holds  great  things  for 
you?  Did  I  not  think  so,  I  would  not  be  here  on  the 
errand  that  brought  me  to  this  spot.  While  in  New 
York  I  read  in  the  papers  the  news  of  your  appointment 
to  this  command.  I  had  come  East  as  soon  as  Sumter 
was  fired  on,  intending  to  enlist.  When  I  learned  that 
an  old  friend  had  been  appointed  to  a  Colonelcy  in  the 
West,  I  determined  to  cast  my  lot  in  with  him.  Colonel 
Burton,  I  am  an  applicant  for  a  position  on  your 
staff." 

The  person  addressed  did  not  reply  for  a  moment, 
but  when  he  did  it  was  in  this  wise : 

"Benedict,  I  have  nothing  now  that  I  can  give  you, 
except  to  take  you  along  with  me  in  a  supernumerary 
capacity,  without  pay  or  title.  However,  I  have  some 
reason  to  believe  that  when  President  Lincoln  makes 
his  appointment  of  Brigadier-Generals,  my  name  will  be 
among  the  number.  If  this  turns  out  to  be  true,  I 
promise  you  a  position  on  my  staff,  with  the  rank  of 
Captain,  if  I  can  bring  it  about.  Is  that  satisfactory?" 

Benedict  assented,  and  then  withdrew  to  quarters 
which  his  friend  caused  to  be  assigned  to  him. 

Two  days  later,  the  Twenty-first  Illinois,  in  company 
with  two  other  regiments,  moved*  forward  in  the  direc- 


222 

tion  of  Florida,  Missouri.  Burton  as  the  senior  Colonel 
present,  was  in  command  of  the  entire  body  of  troops. 
As  they  approached  the  summit  of  a  hill  which  was 
supposed  to  look  down  upon  the  spot  where  the  re- 
doubtable "Tom"  Harris  and  his  embattled  host  held 
forth,  the  raw  recruits  under  Burton's  command  became 
perceptibly  nervous. 

They  were  marching  towards  what  they  supposed 
was  the  seat  of  war.  Happily  for  them  it  turned  out 
that  Harris  had  as  little  desire  as  had  his  opponent  to 
destroy  the  peaceful  aspect  of  that  locality  or  to  shed 
his  blood  on  that  forlorn  spot.  As  Burton  approached 
the  place  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with  more  than  an 
entire  regiment  of  men  at  his  back,  he  supposed  that  in 
all  human  probability  Harris's  troops  were  just  ready 
to  come  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  in  his  direction.  In- 
deed he  more  than  half  expected  that  in  a  moment  they 
would  be  tearing  down  upon  his  men  like  a  whirlwind. 
His  heart  seemed  to  be  in  his  throat,  and  he  felt  like 
retreating.  Rumors  as  to  the  size  of  the  opposing 
army  had  grown  more  awesome  as  the  day  progressed. 
What  was  supposed  to  be  a  force  of  a  thousand  men 
a  few  days  ago,  had  suddenly,  as  if  by  magic,  grown 
to  five  thousand.  Some  few  of  the  farmers  along  the 
road  (of  markedly  Southern  sympathies,  however),  even 
"calkilated  that  there  might  be  night  onto  ten  thousand 
sojirs  with  Tom  Harris" — and  all  in  camp  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  near  Florida,  Missouri.  By  example  as  well 
as  by  many  words  of  judicious  encouragement,  Burton 
— aided  in  no  small  degree  by  his  new  aide,  Benedict — 
succeeded  in  keeping  up  the  morale  of  his  army  to  the 


MOVES  AGAINST  THE  ENEMY          223 

point  where  they  were  still  willing  to  move  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  enemy. 

As  he  and  Benedict  rode  at  the  head  of  the  little  army 
of  two  thousand  men,  he  remarked  laughingly  to  the 
latter : 

"Benedict,  did  you  ever  think  how  much  easier  it  is  to 
follow  than  to  lead?  In  old  Mexico,  just  so  long  as  the 
responsibility  was  on  the  other  fellow,  I  went  into  battle 
without  fear  or  trepidation.  To-day,  with  an  army 
behind  me  and  myself  in  supreme  command,  I  am  frank 
to  say  that  I  am  as  near  a  panic  as  I  have  ever  been  in 
my  life.  I  honestly  believe  that  if  it  were  not  a  matter 
of.  duty,  I  would  certainly  have  stopped  this  army  of 
mine,  for  an  hour  at  least,  until  the  commander-in-chief 
got  over  being  scared.  But  anyhow,  this  feeling  won't 
last  long,  for  in  a  moment  we  shall  be  at  the  top  of  that 
hill  and  then,  I  suppose,  this  dread  incarnation  of  battle 
they  call  General  Tom  Harris,  will  proceed  to  eat  us 
alive." 

The  words  had  hardly  been  spoken  before  the  summit 
was  reached,  and  the  low-lying  pastoral  village  of 
Florida  was  spread  out  before  them.  As  he  gazed  upon 
the  smoldering  fires  and  deserted  camp  paraphernalia 
of  the  opposing  army,  which  had  fled  in  precipitate 
haste  only  an  hour  before,  a  broad  smile  passed 
over  the  ordinarily  impassive  face  of  the  Federal 
generalissimo. 

"Well,  Benedict,  I  have  now  had  my  first  lesson  in 
independent  command.  Out  of  it  I  have  gleaned  at  least 
one  great  truth.  It  is  this:  Always  remember  no 
matter  what  the  contest  may  be,  the  other  fellow  is  just 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

as  much  afraid  of  you,  as  you  are  of  him  and  perchance 
as  in  the  case  of  our  friend  Harris,  even  more  so.  The 
moment  I  found  that  he  was  doing  the  running  away 
instead  of  myself,  I  felt  a  fierce  and  resistless  desire  to 
enter  upon  a  most  vigorous  and  malignant  pursuit. 
With  the  backs  of  the  enemy  turned  towards  me,  I 
determined  that  the  hosts  of  treason  must  be  pursued, 
now  that  they  had  already  commenced  to  run." 

Shortly  after  this  came  the  information  that  the  Presi- 
dent had  at  last  made  his  long-promised  appointment 
of  Brigadier-Generals,  and  that  out  of  the  forty  officers 
appointed,  Burton's  name  was  nineteenth  on  the  list. 
And  thus  at  the  age  of  thirty-nine  the  ex-Captain  in 
the  regular  army  found  himself  once  again  back  in  the 
army,  and  this  time  wearing  the  single  star  of  a 
Brigadier-General. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HOW  BURTON   FOUND   HIMSELF 

FROM  the  very  beginning  of  the  great  Civil  War, 
the  ill-fortune  which  had  followed  Burton  since  his 
resignation  from  the  army  with  such  seemingly  fatal 
persistency,  suddenly  left  him.  The  conflict  was  not 
fairly  commenced  before  he  was  given  without  the 
asking,  what  had  been  refused  to  all  except  the  highest 
in  command.  He  found  himself  with  an  independent 
comrrand  and  a  chance  to  do  great  things  with  it,  if 
he  were  but  the  man  for  the  place.  The  means  and  the 
opportunity  were  his.  Had  he  the  ability  to  utilize  it 
to  the  fullest  measure?  At  first  he  attracted  no  atten- 
tion outside  of  the  small  district  which  had  been  given 
him  to  command.  Then  came,  on  his  own  initiative,  a 
skillful  movement  up  the  Ohio  whereby  Paducah  was 
captured  and  Kentucky  saved  to  the  Union.  This  was 
followed  closely  by  the  skirmish  at  Belmont,  which  pre- 
vented Polk  from  sending  reinforcements  to  Price  in 
Missouri  when  the  latter  State  was  wavering  in  its 
allegiance  to  the  National  Government. 

A  silence  of  two  months  and  then  the  country  awoke 
one  morning  to  learn  that  an  obscure  Western  Briga- 
dier had  fought  and  won  the  greatest  battle  of  the  war. 

225 


226  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

With  the  twin  victories  at  Henry  and  Donelson,  came 
fifteen  thousand  prisoners  and  more  guns  than  were 
possessed  by  his  own  invincible  army.  No  such  victory 
had  ever  before  been  won  on  this  continent.  The  coun- 
try was  in  a  furore  of  jubilation.  All  were  now  in- 
quiring who  is  this  new  general,  whose  star  is  rising 
out  of  the  boundless  West?  Burton  was  made  Major- 
General  of  Volunteers  and  given  a  larger  command. 
The  victory  at  Donelson  brought  all  Kentucky  and 
part  of  Tennessee  into  the  hands  of  the  Government  and 
made  necessary  the  evacuation  of  Columbus  and  Nash- 
ville. The  country  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the 
exuberance  of  its  joy  over  Donelson,  before  there  came 
news  that  at  Shiloh,  after  two  days  of  the  hardest  fight- 
ing imaginable,  had  occurred  the  defeat  of  the  flower 
of  the  Southern  army  under  Albert  Sidney  Johnston. 
As  was  the  case  with  all  of  Burton's  victories,  it  was 
fruitful  with  results.  It  threw  New  Orleans  into  the 
hands  of  the  North ;  it  opened  the  Mississippi  to  Mem- 
phis, and  it  dealt  the  Confederate  cause  a  blow  in  the 
West  from  which  it  never  recovered.  Once  more  the 
country  was  stirred  from  one  end  to  the  other  by  the 
victory  of  the  silent  man  of  destiny.  But  Shiloh  was 
but  the  precursor  of  a  campaign  which  was  destined  to 
pass  into  history,  as  one  of  the  greatest  in  the  annals  of 
war.  It  was  that  of  Vicksburg.  The  campaign  that 
bears  this  name  was  suggested  and  developed  by  cir- 
cumstances. The  elections  of  1862  had  gone  against 
the  prosecution  of  the  war.  Voluntary  enlistments 
had  nearly  ceased  and  the  draft  had  been  resorted  to. 
This  was  resisted,  and  to  defeat  the  purposes  of  the 


HOW  BURTON  FOUND  HIMSELF         227 

copperheads  at  home,  a  decisive  victory  was  necessary. 
As  usual,  it  fell  to  the  silent  commander  to  accomplish 
it.  Then  came  the  spectacular  running  of  the  batteries 
at  Vicksburg  by  the  transports  carrying  the  Northern 
army  to  a  landing  place  below  that  city.  This  was 
followed  by  the  memorable  movement  towards  the 
capital  of  Mississippi,  while  two  hostile  armies  threat- 
ened both  before  and  behind.  No  general  ever  conceived 
a  more  daring  scheme.  There  was  no  precedent  for  it 
in  warfare.  It  was  this.  To  interpose  his  forces  be- 
tween two  armies  and  beat  them  in  detail,  first  driving 
Johnston  eastward  and  then  to  turn  upon  Pemberton, 
crushing  him  in  battle  and  push  him  into  Vicksburg. 
To  do  this  he  had  to  cut  loose  from  his  base  altogether 
to  live  on  the  country.  With  sublime  self-reliance  he 
took  the  destinies  of  the  army  and  the  nation  upon  his 
shoulders  and  wrought  out  a  triumph  that  could  have 
been  obtained  in  no  other  way. 

Jackson  was  captured  the  day  before  a  new  com- 
mander arrived,  and  only  a  few  days  before  large 
reinforcements  were  expected.  A  rapid  movement  west 
was  then  made,  the  garrison  of  Vicksburg  was  met  in 
two  engagements,  badly  defeated  and  driven  back  into 
the  stronghold  and  there  successfully  besieged.  On  the 
nation's  birthday  in  1863  the  citadel  of  the  Confederacy 
in  the  Southwest  fell,  and  with  it  31,600  prisoners  were 
surrendered,  together  with  172  cannon  and  60,000 
muskets.  The  news  of  the  victory  lifted  a  great  load 
of  anxiety  from  the  mind  of  the  great  war  president. 
With  the  fall  of  Vicksburg  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy 
was  sealed.  It  was  cut  in  twain  and  the  Mississippi 


228  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

from  its  source  to  its  mouth,  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
Federal  Government.  The  victor  of  Vicksburg  was 
made  a  Major-General  in  the  regular  army,  and  given 
command  of  the  entire  Western  armies.  The  great  war- 
president  wrote  him  the  following  autograph  letter : 

"Mr  DEAR  GENERAL:  I  do  not  remember  that  you 
and  I  have  ever  met  personally.  I  write  this  now  as 
a  grateful  acknowledgement  for  the  almost  inestimable 
service  you  have  done  the  country.  I  wish  to  say  a 
word  further.  When  you  first  reached  the  vicinity  of 
Vicksburg  I  thought  you  should  do  what  you  finally  did 
— march  the  troops  across  the  neck,  run  the  batteries 
with  the  transports  and  thus  go  below ;  and  I  never  had 
any  faith  except  a  general  hope  that  you  knew  better 
than  I  that  the  Yazoo  Pass  expedition  and  the  like 
could  succeed.  When  you  got  below  and  took  Port 
Gibson,  Grand  Gulf  and  vicinity,  I  thought  you  should 
go  down  the  river  and  join  General  Banks,  and  when 
you  turned  northward,  east  of  the  Big  Black,  I  feared 
it  was  a  mistake.  I  now  wish  to  make  the  personal 
acknowledgment  that  you  were  right  and  I  was  wrong. 
"Yours  very  truly, 

"A.  LINCOLN." 

This  letter  in  its  way  was  more  gratifying  to  its 
recipient  than  the  adulation  of  a  nation. 

Four  months  more  elapsed  and  then  came  still  more 
glorious  news  of  the  soldier  who  had  yet  to  fight  a  losing 
battle.  It  was  the  glad  tidings  of  the  glorious  victories 
of  the  Chattanooga  campaign,  the  battles  of  Look- 


HOW  BURTON  FOUND  HIMSELF         229 

out  Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge.  These  were  the 
most  perfect  battles  in  all  their  details  that  were  fought 
throughout  the  war.  Few  generals  would  have  had  the 
temerity  to  order  an  assault  on  what  was  apparently 
an  impregnable  position.  Fewer  still  would  have  had 
the  skill  to  weaken  a  seemingly  invincible  center  as  was 
done  at  Missionary  Ridge  and  then  detect  just  the 
psychological  moment  for  making  the  final  assault.  In 
one  stroke,  the  skillful  hand  of  this  great  master  of  the 
art  of  war  had  destroyed  Bragg's  army  and  rescued 
Burnside  from  his  perilous  position  at  Knoxville  and 
transformed  at  a  stroke  a  besieging  army  into  a 
besieged.  At  this  time,  pursuant  to  the  universal 
demand  of  the  people  a  bill  passed  Congress  reviving 
the  grade  of  Lieutenant-General.  All  understood  for 
whose  benefit  it  was  passed.  The  appointment  to  the 
supreme  command  of  all  the  armies,  which  the  title 
carried  with  it,  belonged  by  virtue  and  uninterrupted 
succession  of  unparalleled  victories  to  the  "Man  of 
Destiny"  alone.  It  was  at  this  time  that  his  greatest 
lieutenant  in  the  field,  his  elder  in  years,  wrote  to  him  in 
these  words : 

"You  are  now  Washington's  legitimate  successor  and 
occupy  a  position  of  almost  dangerous  elevation.  But 
if  you  can  continue  as  heretofore  to  be  yourself — 
simple,  honest  and  unpretending — you  will  enjoy 
through  life  the  respect  and  love  of  friends  and  the 
homage  of  millions  of  human  beings,  that  will  award 
you  a  large  share  in  securing  to  them  and  their  descend- 
ants a  government  of  law  and  stability.  Until  you  won 


230 

Donelson  I  confess  I  was  almost  awed  by  the  terrible 
array  of  anarchical  elements  that  presented  themselves 
at  every  point.  But  that  admitted  a  ray  of  light  which 
I  have  followed  since.  I  believe  you  are  as  brave,  pa- 
triotic and  just  as  the  great  prototype  Washington — 
as  unselfish,  kindhearted  and  honest  as  a  man  should  be. 
But  the  chief  characteristic  is  the  simple  faith  in  success 
you  have  always  manifested,  which  I  can  liken  to  noth- 
ing else  than  the  faith  of  a  Christian  in  his  Savior." 

Then  came  the  word  summoning  him  to  Washington 
to  accept  the  supreme  command.  On  the  ninth  of 
March,  1864,  at  the  age  of  forty-two  years,  he  stood 
before  Abraham  Lincoln  in  the  White  House,  who  spoke 
to  him  these  words: 

"The  nation's  appreciation  of  what  you  have  done 
and  its  reliance  upon  you  for  what  remains  to  be  done 
in  the  existing  great  struggle,  are  now  presented  with 
this  commission,  constituting  you  Lieutenant-General  of 
the  army  of  the  United  States.  With  this  high  honor 
devolves  upon  you  a  corresponding  responsibility. 
As  the  country  herein  trusts  you,  so  under  God,  it  will 
sustain  you.  I  scarcely  need  to  add  that  what  I  here 
speak  goes  with  my  own  hearty  personal  concurrence." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  as  the  clear,  penetrat- 
ing voice  of  the  President  died  away  and  then  there 
came  from  the  Man  of  Destiny  this  response: 

"Mr.  President,  I  accept  the  commission  with  grati- 
tude for  the  high  honor  conferred.  With  the  aid  of  the 
noble  armies  that  have  fought  on  so  many  fields  for  our 
common  country,  it  will  be  my  earnest  endeavor  not  to 


HOW  BURTON  FOUND  HIMSELF 

disappoint  your  expectations.  I  feel  the  full  weight 
of  the  responsibilities  now  devolving  on  me,  and  I  know 
that  if  they  are  met,  it  will  be  due  to  those  armies,  and 
above  all,  to  the  favor  of  that  Providence  which  leads 
both  nations  and  men." 

The  next  day  found  the  Lieutenant-General  of  the 
army  on  a  visit  to  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  with 
whose  fortunes  his  own  were  now  to  be  inseparably 
linked  until  the  close  of  the  war.  All  felt  sure,  soldier 
and  civilian  alike,  that  truly  now  a  leader  had  been 
found,  upon  whom  the  nation  might  safely  lean  in  its 
hour  of  extremity.  And  now  as  a  million  men  moved 
here  and  there  upon  the  chessboard  of  war,  at  the  touch 
of  a  single  hand,  even  the  most  credulous  could  scarcely 
be  brought  to  believe  that  the  one-time  occupant  of 
that  wretched  loft  in  the  San  Francisco  boarding-house 
of  a  few  years  before,  was  one  and  the  same  with  the 
person  who  now  held  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  the  fate 
of  armies  and  a  nation.  And  yet  the  despairing  hope- 
less man  of  the  "What  Cheer  House"  was  even  now  in 
command  of  more  troops  than  had  ever  before  in  all 
time  been  under  the  control  of  a  single  mind.  He,  after 
whose  name  an  impatient  world  had  long  ago  written 
the  word  "failure,"  had  now  become  the  most  uniformly 
successful  commander  the  world  had  ever  seen.  In  the 
space  of  three  years  he  had  risen  by  his  own  unaided 
efforts  from  the  colonelcy  of  a  regiment  of  volunteers 
to  the  command  of  the  entire  Federal  army.  Truly  the 
world's  opinions  are  often  twilight  judgments.  It  seldom 
sees  clearly,  until  the  man  has  gone  to  his  final  resting 
place.  So  in  the  case  of  the  Man  of  Destiny,  it  had 


indeed  erred  grievously.  It  could  not  realize  that  the 
disgraced  officer  of  Fort  Humboldt  had  in  him  the 
grasp  of  things  military,  which  saved  Kentucky  and 
Missouri  to  the  Union.  It  might  well  have  scoffed  at 
the  idea  that  the  seemingly  beaten  man  of  the  sailors' 
boarding-house,  was  he  who  with  unyielding  purpose 
secured  the  unconditional  surrender  at  Donelson.  It 
would  have  laughed  to  scorn  the  one  who  would  have 
had  the  temerity  to  prophesy  that  the  unsuccessful 
farmer  of  a  few  years  before  had  in  him  that  soul  of 
iron  which  withstood  the  awful  carnage  of  that  first 
day's  fight  at  Shiloh,  and  snatched  victory  from  appar- 
ent defeat  on  the  second.  It  would  have  doubted  the 
sanity  of  the  man  who  would  have  been  bold  enough  to 
foretell  that  the  humble  seller  of  wood  in  the  public 
marts  of  a  Western  city,  would  some  day  win  for  the 
nation  those  matchless  victories  at  Vicksburg  and  Chat- 
tanooga. Aye,  truly,  the  Man  of  Destiny  has  found 
himself  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

MUCH  controversy  has  arisen  in  the  past,  and  more 
will  doubtless  arise  in  the  future  relative  to  the  question 
as  to  what  was  the  decisive  battle  of  the  Civil  War. 
Gettysburg,  the  Wilderness,  and  half  a  score  of  others 
might  be  mentioned — each  have  their  supporters — but 
none  save  the  two  first  named  have  any  just  claim  to 
that  distinction.  In  the  judgment  of  the  historian  the 
contest  for  supremacy — if  such  it  may  be  called — must 
lie  between  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  on  the  one  hand 
and  that  of  the  Wilderness  on  the  other.  When  it 
comes  to  choosing  between  these,  the  honor,  it  is  be- 
lieved, must  unquestionably  be  given  to  that  of  the 
Wilderness.  To  satisfy  the  mind  of  the  impartial 
reader  on  this  point,  let  us  go  back  three  years  and 
trace  the  course  of  events  since  the  memorable  12th 
day  of  April,  1861,  when  Edmund  Ruffin,  under  Beaure- 
gard's  direction,  fired  the  first  shot  on  the  national 
ensign  at  Fort  Sumter. 

The  opening  of  the  war  had  witnessed  the  "On  to 
Richmond"  campaign  of  McDowell,  which  wrote  its 
epitaph  at  Bull  Run.  This  event  was  followed  by  the 
advent  of  McClellan  as  the  chief  actor,  for  the  time 

233 


234  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

,  being,  in  the  great  drama  commenced  but  a  few  months 
before.  With  unquestioned  abilities  as  organizer,  he 
undertook  the  spectacular  Peninsular  Campaign  which 
embraced  the  transportation  of  his  troops  by  water  to 
the  region  of  the  lower  Chesapeake,  to  be  followed  by 
the  promised  triumphal  march  to  the  goal  of  all  cam- 
paigns of  the  day,  the  city  of  Richmond.  McClellan, 
after  spending  weeks  in  the  deadly  swamps  of  the 
Chickahominy,  and  fighting  a  series  of  battles  there  and 
around  Richmond,  ended  for  the  time  being  his  meteoric 
career  in  disaster  and  retreat. 

Next  Pope — the  hero  of  some  successes  in  the  West, 
attempted  some  serious  moves  on  the  Virginia  chess- 
board, but  was  cleverly  checkmated  by  his  more  able 
antagonist  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run.  Then 
McClellan — eager  for  opportunity  to  regain  his  lost 
laurels — fought  the  battle  of  Antietam.  Here,  though 
successful  in  driving  the  enemy  from  Maryland,  he 
yet  failed  completely  in  his  attempt  to  annihilate  the 
Southern  army  as  well  as  to  prevent  the  orderly  retreat 
of  Lee's  veteran  troops  back  to  their  camping  ground 
in  the  Old  Dominion. 

Burnside,  without  desire  or  solicitation  on  his  part, 
was  pressed  into  service  as  leader  of  what  appeared  to 
be  almost  a  vain  hope — that  of  vanquishing  Lee's  army 
on  Virginia  soil.  At  Fredericksburg  his  magnificent 
army  passed  through  the  "valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death"  to  awful  defeat.  This  ended  the  campaign  in 
the  East  for  the  year  of  1862. 

The  next  year's  Eastern  campaign  opened  with 
Hooker  in  comamnd  at  Chancellorsville,  where  Robert 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    235 

E.  Lee  gained  his  greatest  and  most  brilliant  victory. 
Emboldened  by  his  uninterrupted  success  against  the 
commanders  sent  against  him  by  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment, the  Confederate  chieftain  now  commenced  his 
long-cherished  project  of  invading  the  North.  At 
Gettysburg  he  met  his  first  serious  reverse  at  the  hands 
of  George  Gordon  Meade,  the  then  commander  of  the 
army  of  the  Potomac.  True  it  is  that  this  great  battle 
was  pregnant  with  far-reaching  results.  It  stopped  suc- 
cessfully the  boldest  attempt  made  during  the  war  to 
invade  northern  soil.  Beyond  doubt  it  dealt  a  heavy 
yet  by  no  means  a  crushing  blow  to  the  hopes  of 
the  Confederacj'.  The  losses  sustained  by  the  army  of 
Virginia  in  that  titanic  struggle  destroyed  in  some 
measure  the  aggressive  force  of  the  Southern  army  as 
well  as  weakened  for  the  time  being  its  morale.  Yet 
Lee's  masterly  retreat  after  the  battle,  unattended  by 
vigorous  pursuit  on  the  part  of  his  opponent,  followed 
later  by  successes  at  the  engagements  of  Rappahannock 
Station  and  Mine  Run,  did  much  *to  repair  the  morale 
of  the  army,  as  well  as  to  restore  its  implicit  faith  in 
its  chosen  leader. 

The  real  ending  of  the  Gettysburg  campaign  came 
at  Mine  Run  and  found  the  army  of  the  Potomac  but 
little  nearer  its  great  goal,  than  it  had  been  in  the  early 
days  of  the  war.  Gettysburg  was  simply  the  flood  tide 
of  the  marvelously  successful  career  of  Robert  E.  Lee. 

The  opening  of  the  year  1864  found  the  army  of 
Virginia  fully  as  strong  in  numbers  as  it  had  been  with 
the  added  virtue  that  it  was  now  an  army  of  veterans 
under  a  leadership  seldom  surpassed.  The  taking  of 


236 

Richmond  was  regarded  in  the  South  as  a  Northern 
dream — incapable  of  realization — while-  at  the  North, 
the  destruction  of  Lee's  army  appeared  so  formidable 
as  to  cause  all  but  the  greatest  to  shrink  from  the  task. 

Then  how  can  Gettysburg  be  called  the  greatest 
battle  of  the  Civil  War?  It  was  not.  It  but  traces 
upon  the  map  of  war  the  high-water  mark  of  the  tide 
of  battle  which  swept  the  country  from  the  Far  West 
to  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  Wilderness  alone  was  the  real  crisis  of  the  war 
between  the  sections — the  beginning  of  the  end. 

And  now  a  word  descriptive  of  that  dark  and  somber 
region  where  the  battle  was  fought. 

In  the  commonwealth  of  old  Virginia  there  is  a  tract 
of  forest  land  about  fifteen  miles  square,  extending  from 
the  Rapidan  River  toward  Spottsylvania,  and  equi- 
distant from  Fredericksburg  on  the  east  and  Orange 
Mountains  on  the  west.  It  is  occasionally  broken  by 
small  farms  and  abandoned  clearings  and  deeply  gutted 
by  numerous  streams  known  in  that  region  as  the 
"runs."  It  is  an  elevated  plateau,  the  surface  of  which 
is  broken  by  occasional  hills  near  the  center  of  the  tract. 
The  region  rests  on  a  field  of  mineral  rocks,  and  for 
many  years  in  colonial  days,  Alexander  Spottswood,  the 
"Tubal  Cain"  of  old  Virginia,  had  his  iron  mines  and 
furnaces  there.  To  build  the  latter  he  cut  down  heavy 
timbers  all  over  the  entire  region  and  in  its  place  has 
arisen  a  second  growth  of  low-limbed  and  scraggy 
pines,  dwarfed  oaks,  junipers  and  hazel.  Among  these, 
vines  and  creepers  of  all  kinds  grow  in  great  profusion, 
forming  dense  underbrush.  Across  these  places  run 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    237 

labyrinthian  paths  known  only  for  the  most  part  to 
the  natives  of  that  region.  The  whole  place  has  been 
well  termed  "the  region  of  the  shadow  of  death." 

From  east  to  west  along  the  northern  boundary  of 
the  Wilderness  runs  the  Rapidan  River,  which  has  its 
source  in  the  Rappahannock  just  north  of  Chancellors- 
ville.  The  region  can  be  entered  from  the  north  by  the 
Germania  Road,  running  from  the  Germania  Ford 
on  the  Rapidan,  southeasterly  to  its  junction  near  the 
middle  of  the  Wilderness  with  the  Brock  Road,  which  in 
its  turn  runs  in  a  southeasterly  direction  to  Spottsyl- 
Vania  Court  House.  It  may  also  be  entered  from  the 
north  through  Ely's  Ford,  six  miles  to  the  east  of  the 
Germania  Ford.  From  Ely's  Ford  a  road  runs  six 
miles  south,  forming  a  junction  with  the  Germania 
Road  at  a  point  where  it  meets  the  Brock  Road  in  the 
heart  of  the  Wilderness. 

The  region  may  also  be  approached  from  the  east, 
starting  from  the  Orange  Court  House  at  the  foot  of 
the  Blue  Mountains,  in  three  different  ways.  The  most 
northerly  is  an  easterly  and  westerly  road  known  as  the 
Orange  Turnpike,  which  crosses  the  Germania  Road 
close  to  the  point  of  intersection  of  the  latter  with  the 
road  of  Ely's  Ford.  Due  south  and  parallel  with  the 
Orange  Turnpike  are  two  other  roads  known  as  the 
Orange  Plank  Road  and  the  Carpathen  Road.  These 
roads  lie  about  three  miles  apart  from  each  other;  the 
Orange  Plank  Road  leading  direct  from  the  Orange 
Court  House  to  Chancellorsville,  and  crossing  the  Brock 
Road  near  the  junction  with  the  Germania  Road;  the 
other,  the  Carpathen  Road  branching  off  from  the 


238  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Orange  Plank  Road  some  five  miles  east  of  Orange 
Court  House,  and  leading  in  a  southeasterly  direction  to 
Spottsylvania  Court  House. 

Spottsylvania  County,  in  which  the  Wilderness  is 
mainly  located,  was  little  more  than  a  great  battlefield, 
for  here  were  fought  four  of  the  great  battles  of  the 
war — Fredericksburg,  Chancellorsville,  the  Wilderness, 
and  Spottsylvania  Court  House.  It  had  become  in  a 
way  a  sort  of  national  cemetery  for  the  soldiers  of  the 
North  and  South.  So  much  then  for  the  battleground. 
And  now  a  word  as  to  commanders  who  are  to  measure 
strength  for  the  first  time  within  its  grim  and  darkened 
forest  depths. 

The  "Man  of  Destiny"  was  appointed  to  the  com- 
mand of  all  the  armies  on  the  12th  of  March,  1864. 
Soon  after  his  appointment  he  took  up  his  headquarters 
with  the  army  of  the  Potomac  at  Culpepper  Court 
House.  He  had  under  him  at  this  time  the  reorganized 
Second,  Fifth  and  Sixth  Corps  of  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac, together  with  the  independent  Ninth  Corps  and 
the  cavalry.  In  addition  to  these,  he  commanded  all 
the  armies  of  the  Union,  consisting  of  twenty-one  army 
corps,  located  in  eighteen  military  districts  aggregat- 
ing one  million  men.  In  all  purely  military  questions, 
his  will  was  supreme  and  his  authority  unquestioned. 

By  retaining  Meade  in  the  immediate  command  of  the 
army  of  the  Potomac,  he  had  avoided  wounding  the 
self-love  of  the  army.  In  this  he  showed  deep  insight 
into  the  hearts  of  his  men  who  were  the  more  willing  for 
this  action  on  his  part  to  serve  him  at  all  times  with 
supreme  zeal  and  devotion. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    239 

The  grand  divisions  of  Burnside's  day  had  disap- 
peared and  in  their  places  had  come  four  infantry  corps 
and  one  of  cavalry.  These  were  the  Second  Corps 
commanded  by  Hancock,  the  Fifth  by  Warren,  the 
Sixth  by  Sedgwick  and  the  Ninth  by  Burnside,  while 
the  cavalry  was  under  the  command  of  Sheridan.  The 
old  First  and  Third  Corps  had  been  disbanded  and 
divided  up  between  the  Second  and  Fifth. 

Reading  over  the  successive  rosters,  it  is  evident  that 
the  army  of  the  Potomac  had  greatly  changed  since 
rts  organization  by  McClellan  in  1862.  The  latter  had 
resigned,  Hooker  was  with  Sherman,  Mansfield,  Reno, 
Kearney,  Stevens  and  Reynolds  had  fallen  in  battle, 
Sumner  was  dead,  Sickles  disabled  from  wounds,  Por- 
ter cashiered,  Newton,  Butterfield,  Howard,  Slocum, 
Kilpatrick  and  Franklin  ordered  to  active  duty  in  the 
West,  while  McDowell,  Doubleday,  Sykes,  Keyes,  Stone- 
man,  Pleasanton  and  Couch  were  assigned  to  depart- 
ments where  no  great  martial  activity  was  required.  Of 
those  officers  who  attained  prominence  in  the  early  days 
of  its  existence  only  Burnside,  Meade,  Hancock,  Sedg- 
wick, Wadsworth  and  Griffin  of  the  Line,  Warren  of 
the  Engineers,  Hunt  of  the  Artillery  and  Seth 
Williams,  Ingalls  and  Humphreys  of  the  Staff,  were 
left.  In  the  place  of  the  "Old  Guard"  had  sprung  up  a 
new  set  of  leaders,  chief  among  whom  were  Meade, 
Hancock,  Sedgwick,  Warren,  Griffin,  Getty,  Birney, 
Barlow,  Upton,  Hays  and  Carroll.  To  these  should  be 
added  Sheridan,  who  had  been  called  from  the  West  to 
the  chief  command  of  the  cavalry,  and  his  able  lieuten- 
ants Torbert,  Merritt,  Gregg  and  Wilson. 


240  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

To  most  of  the  higher  officers  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  the  new  commander  was  a  complete  stranger. 
Of  these  none  had  ever  served  under  him  in  the  West 
save  Sheridan,  Ingalls  and  some  half  score  of  the  regi- 
mental commanders.  He  had  served  in  Mexico  with 
Meade,  Burnside,  Sedgwick,  Hancock,  Hunt,  Getty, 
Griffin,  Wright,  Ingalls  and  Hays.  He  had  spent  one 
or  more  years  at  the  academy  with  Sedgwick,  Wright, 
Hancock,  Getty,  Ingalls,  Williams  and  Hays.  The  only 
West  Pointers  under  his  immediate  command  either  as 
corps,  division  or  brigade  commanders  or  in  high  posi- 
tions in  other  branches  of  the  service,  were  Meade, 
Hancock,  Sedgwick,  Warren,  Burnside,  Hunt,  Williams, 
Ingalls,  Sheridan,  Humphreys,  Gibbon,  Ayres,  Neil, 
Wright,  Eustis,  Ricketts,  Hays  and  Upton. 

Lee,  his  great  antagonist,  had  graduated  from  West 
Point  in  the  class  of  1829.  Of  the  opposing  corps  divi- 
sion brigade  commanders  whom  he  had  known  at  West 
Point,  were  Longstreet,  Jones,  M.  L.  Smith,  Anderson 
and  Wilcox.  Besides  these,  Lee  had  under  him  the 
following  regulars,  all  graduates  of  the  Military 
Academy:  A.  P.  Hill,  Ewell,  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  Early, 
Anderson,  Johnson,  Rodes,  Ramseur,  Heth,  Field, 
Kershaw,  Geo.  H.  Steuart,  Pendleton  and  Fitzhugh  Lee. 

Nothing  illustrates  so  well  the  saddest  feature 
of  the  conflict  that  was  being  waged — a  war  between 
men  of  common  blood,  institutions  and  traditions — 
than  the  close  relationship  that  had  once  existed 
between  leading  officers  in  the  two  opposing  armies. 
Sedgwick,  the  veteran  commander  of  the  Sixth  Corps 
of  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  had  been  for  four  years  a 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    241 

classmate  of  Jubal  Eaily  at  West  Point.  The  former's 
division  commander  Getty,  had  graduated  at  the  same 
institution  with  "Dick"  Ewell,  the  commander  of  his 
Second  Corps.  A.  P.  Hill  in  the  Wilderness  campaign, 
found  opposed  to  him  Burnside,  Griffin,  Wilcox  and 
Ayres,  all  members  of  the  West  Point  class  of  '47. 
Seth  Williams,  the  Adjutant-General  of  the  Northern 
army,  had  been  a  great  crony  of  Longstreet  during 
their  four  years  together  at  the  academy.  Sheridan 
and  Stuart,  the  two  great  cavalry  leaders  of  the  two 
armies,  had  spent  three  years  together  there.  And  so 
the  list  might  be  continued  if  space  but  permitted. 

And  now  a  word  as  to  the  commanders  of  the  oppos- 
ing armies  which  lay  on  the  opposite  sides  of  the 
Rapidan  in  the  spring  of  '64.  Both  were  graduates  of 
the  first  military  school  in  the  world.  Lee,  from  the 
class  of  '29,  his  opponent  from  that  of  '43.  Each  had 
acquired  his  first  experience  in  actual  warfare  under 
excellent  masters  in  the  war  with  Mexico.  There  they 
had  not  only  had  the  great  opportunity  of  observing 
and  participating  in  the  superb  campaigns  of  both 
Scott  and  Taylor,  but  had  been  brought  in  contact  with 
nearly  all  of  these,  who  afterwards  obtained  promi- 
nence in  the  Civil  War.  These  embraced  Halleck, 
Meade,  McClellan,  Jackson,  the  two  Johnstons,  Beaure- 
gard,  Bragg,  Longstreet,  Pemberton,  Thomas,  McDow- 
ell, Hooker,  Pope,  Burnside,  the  two  Hills,  Hancock, 
Ewell,  Sedgwick,  all  of  which  was  of  great  value  in 
after  years. 

Lee  as  the  older  officer  and  a  brilliant  engineer  as 
well  as  a  prime  favorite  of  Scott,  came  out  with  greater 


242  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

honor  than  the  younger  man.  When  the  war  opened 
Lee's  standing  and  reputation  were  such  that  he  could 
unquestionably  have  had  the  command  of  the  Federal 
forces  from  the  very  outset  had  he  so  desired.  It  would 
have  been  a  great  temptation  for  an  officer  and  it 
speaks  well  for  his  character  and  probity,  that  his  con- 
victions— mistaken  though  they  were — forbade  his  ac- 
ceptance of  it. 

The  younger  man  meanwhile  had  been  completely  lost 
sight  of  after  his  resignation  from  the  army,  and  no 
one  thought  for  an  instant  of  recommending  him  for 
a  high  position. 

In  the  opening  months  of  the  war  Lee's  career  was 
anything  but  promising.  After  an  unsuccessful  cam- 
paign in  West  Virginia,  where  he  was  invariably  pitted 
against  inferior  commanders,  he  was  exiled  to  the  South 
Carolina  Coast.  There  he  remained  until  the  disability 
of  Johnston  at  Fair  Oaks  on  the  31st  of  May,  1862, 
brought  the  appointment  to  himself.  The  Northern 
general  meanwhile  had  repeatedly  brought  himself  into 
prominence  by  his  success  at  the  West.  His  handling  of 
his  regiment  in  Missouri,  his  display  of  executive  ability 
when  he,  as  a  Brigadier-General,  commanded  the  Cairo 
District,  his  prompt  seizure  of  Paducah,  the  complete 
success  of  his  attempt  at  Belmont  to  keep  Polk  from 
sending  reinforcements  to  Price  in  Missouri,  all  had 
tended  to  bring  him  into  prominence  as  the  ablest 
brigadier  in  the  West.  Then  came  the  first  great  suc- 
cess of  the  war  at  Fort  Donelson,  where  the  name  of 
the  victor  was  on  every  one's  lips.  With  that  victory 
gained,  his  career  was  thereafter  certain  to  com- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

niand  the  attention  of  the  Washington  Government. 
From  that  time  he  became  a  national  leader.  At  Shiloh 
he  displayed  to  superb  advantage,  those  great  traits 
which  gave  promise  of  the  greatness  of  the  man's  in- 
born pugnacity,  calmness  amid  apparent  disaster, 
indomitable  perseverance  and  absolute  unwillingness  to 
submit  to  defeat.  After  Shiloh  his  career  in  the  West, 
and  Lee's  in  the  East  were  the  ones  of  almost  unvarying 
and  at  times  brilliant  success.  As  against  the  North- 
ern leader's  success  at  luka  and  Corinth,  the  other 
could  point  to  that  of  Manassas  and  Chantilly. 

As  against  his  opponent's  victories  at  Champion  Hill, 
Black  River,  Bridge,  Raymond,  Jackson  and  Vicks- 
burg,  Lee  could  point  to  Mechanicsville,  Gaines  Mill, 
Fraziers  Farm,  Savages  Station,  Harrison  Landing 
and  Malvern  Hill.  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville 
are  offset  by  Lookout  Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge. 
Antietam  and  Gettysburg  constitute  the  roll  of  Lee's 
only  defeats,  while  the  Northern  commander  had  yet  to 
meet  his  first  defeat.  Neither  had  ever  commanded  as  a 
subordinate  in  battle. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  newly  appointed 
Lieutenant-General  was  called  upon  to  command  an 
army  composed  almost  exclusively  of  Eastern  troops. 
At  Vicksburg  he  had  but  few  brigades  from  that  sec- 
tion, while  at  Chattanooga  he  had  under  his  command 
Hooker's  entire  corps  from  the  army  of  the  Potomac. 
There  was  a  difference,  real  and  not  imaginary,  between 
the  character  of  the  troops  from  the  East  and  West. 
The  army  of  the  Potomac,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  had 
been  recruited  either  from  the  large  cities  of  the  East  or 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

else  from  the  stores,  offices  and  workshops  of  New 
England  and  the  Middle  States.  With  some  few  ex- 
ceptions, the  army  of  the  Potomac  had  neither  the 
physique,  nor  the  early  experience  with  firearms  pos- 
sessed either  by  their  opponents  or  by  their  own 
comrades  from  the  great  Middle  West.  These  latter 
were  mostly  gathered  from  the  farms  or  small  localities 
of  that  section.  They  were  inured  to  hardship  in  a 
new  and  unsettled  country.  The  world  has  never  seen 
better  soldiers  than  the  troops  that  fought  at  Donel- 
son,  Shiloh,  Vicksburg,  Chattanooga,  and  in  the  battles 
around  Atlanta.  Outside  of  the  defeat  sustained  at 
Chickamauga  they  had  never  met  with  a  serious  reverse. 
In  the  east  the  experience  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
and  other  Eastern  armies  which  were  from  time  to  time 
organized,  was  in  the  early  part  of  the  war  very  dif- 
ferent. One  defeat  followed  another,  until  it  seemed  as 
if  nothing  but  disaster  followed  in  their  track.  Dis- 
couragement arose  more  from  lack  of  confidence  in  their 
leaders  than  from  the  defeat  sustained.  As  to  the 
soldiers  themselves  they  had  had  so  many  disappoint- 
ments with  other  commanders,  that  there  was  at  the 
start  very  little  enthusiasm  aroused  among  them  when 
they  heard  of  the  Western  general's  appointment  to  the 
supreme  command.  They  simply  said  among  them- 
selves : 

"Well,  let  him  see  what  he  can  accomplish  with  this 
army  of  the  Potomac.  He  cannot  be  worse  than  his 
predecessors,  and  if  he  is  a  fighter  he  can  find  all  the 
fighting  he  wants.  Whatever  other  faults  Lee's  army 
may  have,  it  is  not  afraid  to  fight." 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    245 

The  time  when  pitched  battles  were  fought  once  or 
twice  a  year  and  when  men  killed  each  other  all  day  long 
according  to  eminent  precedent  and  then  relapsed  into 
elegant  repose  and  amity,  was  about  to  pass  away.  The 
army  of  the  Potomac  hitherto  had  seemed  to  fight 
battles  merely  for  the  purpose  of  sacrificing  a  certain 
number  of  men  in  order  that  a  temporary  period  of 
peace  might  follow.  Only  in  one  man's  mind  had  come 
the  fixed  determination  not  only  to  defeat  but  to  destroy 
the  opposing  army.  This  had  been  that  one's  task 
almost  from  first  to  last.  At  Donelson  he  not  only  de- 
feated Buckner's  army,  but  captured  it.  At  Vicksburg 
he  made  the  largest  capture  of  prisoners  ever  made  in 
war  in  modern  times  and  truly  destroyed  a  great  army. 
At  Chattanooga  he  broke  forever  the  effectiveness  of 
Bragg's  army.  And  now  he  was  to  enter  upon  the 
greatest  task  of  all,  the  defeat  and  destruction  of  Lee's 
hitherto  invincible  host. 

From  the  time  the  conqueror  of  Vicksburg  took  com- 
mand of  the  Potomac  in  person,  Lee  never  exposed  his 
flanks  or  moved  around  in  reckless  disregard  of  results. 
He  then  began  a  series  of  movements,  a  studied  inspec- 
tion of  position  and  operated  with  a  care  that  was  new 
to  him.  Up  to  this  time  Lee  had  been  willing  to  under- 
take almost  any  risk  and  would  push  his  troops  under 
fire  almost  to  the  limit  of  endurance. 

With  the  one  exception  of  sending  Early  to  attack 
Washington  in  the  Fall  of  1864,  there  was  no  more 
detaching  the  corps  or  divisions  to  go  to  other  places. 
Thus  at  Bull  Run,  Johnston  had  placed  his  troops  on 
cars  and  helped  Beauregard  win  his  victory  on  the 


246  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

Chickahominy.  So  after  Fredericksburg  Lee  had  sent 
Longstreet  to  lay  siege  to  Suffolk,  and  again  after 
Gettysburg,  he  had  sent  him  to  Bragg's  assistance  at 
Chattanooga. 

The  great  strategy  on  the  board  of  war  was  about 
to  commence.  The  two  real  masters  in  the  art  of  war 
were  now  to  play  the  game  to  its  very  end.  The  lesser 
lights  had  had  their  day.  Now  was  to  come  the  supreme 
test.  Back  of  the  Northern  commander  stood  Paducah, 
Belmont,  Henry,  Donelson,  Shiloh,  luka,  Corinth, 
Vicksburg,  and  Missionary  Ridge.  Back  of  the  South- 
ern chieftain  stood  Greenbrier,  Oak  Grove,  Mechanics- 
ville,  Gaines  Mills,  Savages  Station,  Glendale,  Malvern 
Hill,  Groveton,  Antietam,  Fredericksburg,  Chancellors- 
ville,  Gettysburg  and  Mine  Run.  He  had  never  been 
defeated  on  Virginia  soil.  As  against  this  marvelous 
chain  of  victories  his  opponent  had  met  and  vanquished 
at  one  time  or  another,  each  of  the  other  leaders  of  the 
Confederacy — Cheatham,  Pillow,  Buckner,  Forrest,  Al- 
bert Sidney  Johnston,  Beauregard,  Van  Horn,  Price, 
Pemberton,  Joe  Johnston,  Hood,  Hardee,  Cleburne  and 
Bragg.  Lee  had  met  and  either  vanquished  or  baffled, 
Reynolds,  Pope,  McClellan,  Burnside,  Hooker  and 
Meade. 

When  the  silent  commander  took  up  this  stupendous 
task  of  commanding  the  armies,  he  saw  clearly  the 
difficulties  he  would  be  called  upon  to  meet,  not  only 
from  the  enemy,  but  from  the  ranks  of  his  own  army. 
He  knew  only  too  well  that  for  two  years  the  army  of 
the  Potomac  had  been  torn  with  heart  burnings  on  the 
part  of  rival  cliques  and  jealous  officers.  He  knew 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    247 

that  if  he  were  to  succeed  in  the  gigantic  task  that  had 
been  given  him  to  accomplish  he  must  put  an  end  to  all 
this.  To  most  of  the  officers  he  was  personally  un- 
known. On  the  part  of  some  there  was  an  evinced  and 
none  too  well  concealed  desire  to  depreciate  the  worth 
of  his  victories  already  gained — unparalleled  though 
they  might  have  been  in  history — by  asserting  that  the 
new  commander  had  never  yet  been  called  upon  to  meet 
the  idol  of  the  Confederacy.  At  the  outset  he  was 
successful  in  overcoming  any  jealousy  that  might  have 
arisen,  through  the  medium  of  his  unobtrusive  manners 
and  the  entire  absence  in  his  make-up,  of  unworthy  per- 
sonal ambition.  Whatever  his  subordinates  thought  of 
one  another  they  were  at  all  times  well  disposed  toward 
him  and  perfectly  loyal  to  their  chief. 

And  now  while  preparations  for  the  great  campaign 
are  going  on  at  the  headquarters  of  the  army  of  the 
Potomac  at  Culpepper  Court  House,  the  leaders  of  the 
opposing  armies  are  by  no  means  idle.  On  the  morning 
of  the  second  of  May  the  Confederate  chieftain  and  his 
lieutenants,  met  in  a  council  of  war  on  Clark  Mountain 
to  discuss  the  new  leader  who  was  to  lead  their  old 
antagonist — the  army  of  the  Potomac — once  more 
against  them.  The  group  gathered  there  that  day  are 
all  trained  soldiers,  graduates  of  the  great  national 
academy  of  West  Point.  There  is  Longstreet — "Old 
Pete,"  as  he  is  called — the  hardest  fighter  in  the  army. 
In  battle  he  has  the  spring  of  a  tiger  and  the  grip  of 
a  bulldog.  Contrary  to  general  belief,  it  is  to  him  and 
not  to  Jackson,  belongs  the  distinction  of  being  the 
most  rapid  marcher  the  confederacy  has  produced.  He 


248  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

was  always  on  time.  He  is  unquestionably — now  that 
Jackson  has  gone — the  ablest  lieutenant  of  Robert  E. 
Lee,  and  as  an  aggressive  all  round  fighter  he  has  no 
equal  in  the  Southern  army.  Truly  the  first  corps  in 
the  army  of  Virginia  is  under  superb  leadership.  Ewell, 
the  commander  of  Jackson's  old  second  corps,  had  been 
selected  for  that  position  by  "Stonewall"  himself,  after 
the  latter  fell  wounded  at  Chancellorsville.  He  was  al- 
ways plain  "Dick"  Ewell,  a  soldier  by  profession.  He 
was  not  quick  in  his  perceptions  and  could  execute  bet- 
ter than  he  could  plan.  He  did  not  possess  in  a  high 
degree  the  activity  of  mind  necessary  to  provide  for  all 
the  exigencies  of  military  operations. 

A.  P.  Hill,  the  commander  of  the  third  corps,  better 
known  as  the  "Light  Division,"  had,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  "Jeb."  Stuart,  the  brightest  mind  of 
any  of  Lee's  corps  commanders.  His  perceptive  powers 
were  great,  his  judgment  unexcelled  and  his  skill  in 
handling  troops  under  fire  above  the  ordinary.  He  was 
reserved  and  wary,  in  all  respects  a  most  capable  and 
efficient  lieutenant  for  the  great  soldier  under  whom  he 
served. 

"Jeb."  Stuart,  the  cavalier  of  the  army,  was  one  of 
the  greatest  cavalry  officers.  Without  possessing  the 
strategic  and  tactical  abilities  of  his  great  opponent, 
Sheridan,  he  rivalled  the  latter  in  his  power  over  his 
followers.  His  personal  magnetism  was  extraordinary, 
while  his  absolute  fearlessness  in  battle  gave  him  the 
affection  and  confidence  of  his  soldiers.  He  was  the 
beau-ideal  of  a  soldier  of  fortune — a  gay  "sabreur." 
He  was  beyond  question  the  most  picturesque  figure  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

be  found  in  either  army,  North  or  South.  His  faults 
lay  in  his  hasty  temper  and  his  unquenchable  thirst  for 
glory. 

Such,  in  brief,  are  the  pen  pictures  of  the  great 
lieutenants  of  the  army  of  Virginia  as  they  were  in  the 
month  of  May,  1864.  And  now,  what  of  the  com- 
mander? Robert  E.  Lee  was  at  the  opening  of  the 
Wilderness  campaign,  fifty-nine  years  of  age.  He  was 
almost  too  old  for  active  service  in  the  field.  Possessing 
neither  imagination  nor  humor,  retiring  and  exclusive  in 
his  manners,  he  was  ever  the  dignified  self-possessed  Vir- 
ginian of  education  and  refinement. 

Possessing  wealth  and  the  highest  position,  he  had 
that  pride  of  race  which  is  not  wholly  without  its 
charms.  He  was  a  slave-holder,  with  all  that  term 
implies.  He  was  the  idol  of  Virginia,  and  had  the  confi- 
dence of  the  confederate  government  and  of  the  entire 
southern  people  to  an  unparalleled  extent.  In  addition 
to  this,  the  high  opinion  in  which  he  was  held  in  the 
South  was  shared  to  no  inconsiderable  degree  by  a  large 
portion  of  those  at  the  North.  He  was  austere  in  man- 
ner and  had,  you  might  say,  no  intimates.  His  military 
abilities,  particularly  in  the  line  of  defense,  were  of  the 
highest  order.  He  was,  however,  greater  as  a  strategist 
than  as  a  tactician.  By  nature.,  he  was  aggressive,  but 
his  education  and  training  as  an  engineer  had  a  tend- 
ency to  cause  him  to  cultivate  the  art  of  defense  rather 
than  offense.  It  was  in  the  selection  and  fortifying  of 
lines  on  which  to  receive  attack  rather  than  to  deliver  it, 
that  he  displayed  his  extraordinary  abilities.  He  was 
at  all  times  wonderfully  acute  and  possessed  intuitive 


250  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

powers  of  a  high  order,  which  enabled  him  to  grasp 
clearly  the  character  of  those  opposed  to  him.  Duty 
and  loyalty  to  his  state  were  his  pride — we  would  almost 
say  religion.  Nor  was  this  to  be  wondered  at.  The 
.present  generation  finds  it  difficult  to  realize  the  com- 
manding position  occupied  by  the  Old  Dominion  at  the 
opening  of  the  war.  In  all  parts  of  the  country  there 
was  a  certain  tenderness  and  veneration  felt  towards  her 
that  did  not  exist  towards  any  other  state,  and  yet  it 
was  the  Nazareth  of  slavery. 

All  the^roup  here  described  were  talking,  that  bright 
May  morning,  of  the  "Man  of  Destiny."  Lee  looks  the 
great  master  of  war  that  he  is.  Tall  in  stature,  with  a 
figure  trim  as  youth,  notwithstanding  his  years,  white 
hair  and  benevolent  features,  teeth  of  ivory  whiteness, 
mouth  handsome  and  impressive,  nose  and  chin  full  and 
regular,  all  give  to  his  face  force  and  character.  Hill, 
a  vial  of  intense  energy,  strikes  his  clenched  fists,  when 
the  opening  of  this  campaign  is  mentioned,  and  seems 
to  say :  "If  this  new  enemy  can  be  beaten,  the  thing  can 
be  done  by  my  troops."  Ewell  declares  his  willingness 
to  carry  out  to  the  letter  any  orders  that  may  be  given 
him.  Only  Longstreet,  usually  the  most  outspoken  and 
aggressive  of  them  all,  remains  silent.  This  is  noticed 
by  his  chief,  who  presently  inquires  of  him,  "General, 
,what  do  you  think  of  this  new  commander  those  people 
over  there  [pointing  in  the  direction  of  Culpepper]  are 
about  to  send  against  us?" 

"I  have  known  him  for  twenty  years."  replies  Long- 
street,  "and  he  is  the  only  officer  of  the  Northern  army 
who  seems  to  understand  that  we  Southerners  are  mad 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  251 

clear  through  and  through,  and  that  we  can  never  be 
whipped  until  they  have  destroyed  our  armies,  or 
starved  us  into  submission.  But  those  of  you  that  think 
that  he  is  of  a  piece  with  the  other  generals  that  the 
North  have  sent  against  us  will  learn  your  mistake  the 
very  first  day  we  line  up  against  him  in  battle.  I  was 
with  him  at  West  Point,  and  fought  beside  him  in  the 
Fourth  Infantry  during  the  Mexican  War,  and  I  know 
him  through  and  through.  As  soon  as  he  gets  fairly 
started,  we  shall  feel  the  need  of  all  the  sunshine  and 
gayety  that  can  be  found,  for  let  me  tell  you  that  he  will 
allow  the  boys  in  gray,  from  this  time  on,  a  mighty 
short  period  of  relaxation  or  amusement.  No  matter 
what  we  do,  mark  my  words,  he  will  contrive  to  move 
and  always  in  our  direction.  He  is  the  most  persistent 
and  aggressive  fighter  I  ever  knew.  If  he  once  breaks 
through  our  lines,  we  might  as  well  go  to  Washington 
and  there,  going  down  on  our  knees  to  Father  Abraham, 
say,  'Father  we  have  sinned.' ' 

Who  was  this  unassuming  man  from  the  boundless 
West,  who  but  three  years  before  had  been  called — even 
by  his  friends — a  failure?  What  was  he  and  what  did 
he  represent?  In  achieving,  in  the  space  of  two  years, 
the  supreme  command  of  an  army  of  one  million  men 
and  a  military  command  already  equal  to  the  greatest 
the  world  had  ever  seen,  had  he  lost  any  of  those  moral 
qualities  which  distinguished  him  as  youth  and  man? 
The  character  of  the  "Man  of -Destiny"  was  unique.  On 
the  surface  lay  great  moral  qualities — integrity,  sin- 
cerity and  rugged  love  of  truth  and  justice.  He  never 
deceived  himself  or  his  friends.  He  never  underrated 


252  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

himself  in  battle  or  overrated  himself  in  reports.  He 
never  arrogated  to  himself  credit  that  belonged  to  an- 
other, nor  was  he  ever  known  to  shirk  responsibility  by 
placing  it  upon  the  shoulders  of  others,  when  it  suited 
his  purpose  to  do  so,  for  he  had  that  high  moral  cour- 
age, so  rarely  found  among  men,  which  assumes  respon- 
sibility and  stands  back  of  it  whatever  happens.  His 
courage,  both  physical  and  moral,  was  marvellous.  He 
had  perfect  self-control,  whether  in  the  stress  of  battle 
or  when  chided  by  his  superiors  and  under  the  stigma  of 
unmerited  disgrace.  To  many  it  seemed  that  he  needed 
the  shadows  to  bring  out  the  inward  greatness  of  his 
character.  He  was  calm  amid  excitement  and  patient 
under  trials.  He  never  lost  his  temper,  and  in  times  of 
most  intense  excitement  rarely  raised  his  voice.  He 
could  discipline  himself  as  well  as  others,  but  never  pub- 
licly criticized  any.  He  did  not  deem  it  necessary,  in 
order  to  have  a  well-disciplined  army,  to  have  an  un- 
happy one.  He  was  abashed  in  no  man's  presence.  He 
was  never  on  exhibition  and  was  wholly  without  small 
talk.  His  most  marked  characteristic  as  a  commander 
were  his  matchless  persistency,  superb  and  unhesitant 
action,  perfect  mastery  of  details,  considerateness  in 
the  treatment  of  subordinates,  courage  to  assume 
responsibility.  He  was  just  to  all,  absolutely  loyal  and 
had  the  capacity  to  do,  in  the  heat  and  tumult  of  war, 
•things  so  conspicuously  right  that  every  one  wondered 
that  they  had  not  been  thought  of  before.  In  battle  the 
calm  of  the  man  was  broken.  There  his  utterances  were 
prompt  and  incisive.  His  ideas  were  rapid,  his  judg/ 
ment  decisive.  The  words  he  uttered  were  those  of  com- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    253 

mand.  No  other  man  of  like  disposition  possessed  such 
great  powers  which  lay  dormant  in  times  of  peace  but 
arose  to  action  when  called  by  the  stress  of  great  emer- 
gencies. He  was  created  for  such  as  these.  He 
grasped  at  once  the  main  features  as  well  as  the  mi- 
nutest details.  He  kept  this  ceaseless  activity  in  com- 
plete control  and  made  the  difficult  and  complicated 
macliinery  work  efficiently  and  humanely  toward  the 
one  great  goal. 

Sheridan  had  stated  the  matter  well :  "I  can  map  out 
a  dozen  campaigns,  every  one  of  which  Sherman  would 
swear  that  he  could  fight  out  to  victory,  but  neither  he 
nor  I  could  tell  which  was  the  best  plan,  but  the  'Chief 
would  and  could  tell  the  reason  for  it." 

To  him  was  now  entrusted  the  stupendous  task  of 
making  Robert  E.  Lee  write  with  his  own  hand  the 
word  "surrender"  after  his  great  career.  It  is  only  the 
magnitude  of  a  great  task  which  can  call  forth  the 
powers  that  master  it.  With  the  advent  of  the  "Man  of 
Destiny"  passed  away  the  evil  day  when  political  instead 
of  military  ideas  control  the  selection  of  commanders. 
He  knew  only  too  well  that  none  of  the  great  command- 
ers of  the  old  world  could  ever  hope  to  reach  the  su- 
preme .place  under  the  changed  condition  of  the  new. 
He  alone  had  evolved  the  strategic  principle,  that 
armies,  not  cities  or  states,  must  be  the  real  object  of  a 
truly  successful  campaign. 

He  grasped,  too,  the  fact  that  one  who  would  be  a 
truly  great  commander  must  understand  his  position 
thoroughly  and  know  well  the  troops  and  the  qualities 
of  the  armies  opposed  to  him,  and  the  capacity  of  the 


254  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

leader.  He  must  know,  too,  how  to  husband  his  own 
resources,  and  to  discern  those  of  the  enemy;  must  be 
quick  to  know  how  and  when  to  fight,  and  to  distinguish 
between  what  is  essential  and  what  is  of  only  trifling  im- 
portance. He  realized  that  breadth  of  plan  is  often- 
times neutralized  by  neglect  of  detail.  Like  Lee,  he 
always  studied  his  adversary.  His  own  methods  no  one 
could  foretell.  He  varied  them  according  to  who  was 
opposed  to  him. 

His  characteristics  in  times  of  battle  were  these :  He 
had  a  way  of  putting  one  line  immediately  opposite  the 
other,  to  occupy  it  while  he  formed  a  second  line  a  mile 
in  the  rear,  which  would  then  extend  beyond  the  first. 
This  he  would  throw  forward,  so  as  to  envelop  the 
enemy's  flanks.  He  never  succeeded  in  winning  the 
affection  of  his  soldiers,  as  did  Lee,  but  he  only  needed 
to  command  them  in  one  battle  in  order  to  win  their 
supreme  confidence.  He  possessed,  to  a  wonderful 
degree,  the  power  of  doing  everything  at  once.  He 
was  a  master  hand  at  feeding  a  fight.  His  judgment 
was  nearly  perfect  and  his  execution  as  complete  as 
could  be  expected  with  tools  he  had  in  hand.  His  com- 
bativeness  never  turned  in  the  direction  of  his  brother 
officers,  but  always  towards  the  enemy.  With  the 
arrival  of  the  month  of  May  he  was  ready  for  the  great 
campaign.  Sherman  was  to  move  on  Johnston,  Banks 
up  the  Red  River,  and  Butler  against  Richmond 
south  of  the  James.  Sigel  was  to  move  up  the  Shenan- 
doah  and  Averell  into  West  Virginia.  Not  a  commander 
in  history,  Napoleon  not  excepted,  understood  better 
the  nature  of  his  task  than  did  the  Federal  leader  in 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS     255 

the  spring  of  1864.  His  line  of  battle  was  nearly  a 
thousand  miles  long.  He  who  had  handled  his  company 
with  so  much  trepidation  at  Palo  Alto,  nearly  twenty 
years  before,  was  now  called  upon  to  plan  the  move- 
ments of  a  body  of  soldiers  numbering  close  to  a  mil- 
lion. Most  of  his  subordinates  he  knew  well  and  truly. 
Only  the  men  in  the  army  of  the  Potomac  were  unknown 
to  him.  His  orders  ran  through  the  various  armies  like 
an  electric  current. 

When  the  campaign  opened  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
left  its  winter  headquarters  at  Culpepper  and  started 
for  the  fords  of  the  Rapidan.  On  that  day  the  one 
whose  hand  had  ordered  that  movement  rode  a  fine  but 
small  black  horse,  and  was  accompanied  by  his  staff. 
His  uniform  coat  was  unbuttoned.  He  wore  plain  top 
boots  reaching  to  his  knees.  He  carried  no  sword 
whatever.  On  his  shoulders  he  bore  the  three  stars 
which  he  alone,  of  all  the  generals  of  the  army,  was 
entitled  to  wear. 

The  day  was  perfect,  clear  and  cool.  The  dogwood 
was  just  beginning  to  bloom.  The  foliage  along  the 
rivulets  that  they  crossed  on  the  way  was  just  begin- 
ning to  show  the  first  verdure  of  spring.  The  limbs 
overhanging  the  streams  were  bursting  into  bloom.  The 
troops  greeted  their  new  commander  with  lusty  cheers 
as  he  rode  along.  It  was  not  his  intention,  by  any 
means,  that  a  battle  should  take  place  within  the 
Wilderness  between  the  two  armies,  for  he  knew  only 
too  well  the  advantage  would  lie  with  his  antagonist 
under  such  conditions,  for  no  locality  could  be  found 
with  worse  facilities  for  resisting  an  assault  than  this 


256  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

region  of  thick  woods,  rough  underbush  and  few  roads. 
This  for  the  reason  that  the  enemy  could  easily  concen- 
trate as  large  a  force  as  could  be  massed  within  such 
narrow  limits,  while  the  one  defending  must  be  limited 
in  the  number  of  its  defenders  by  the  situation  of  the 
ground.  Again,  it  offered  but  little  opportunity  for 
the  use  of  artillery,  with  which  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac was  particularly  well  equipped.  As  for  the  cav- 
alry, the  underbush  was  so  thick  that  it  could  only  move 
along  a  few  beaten  roads  that  traversed  the  Wilderness. 
Confusion  must  inevitably  result  should  a  battle  take 
place  under  such  conditions. 

The  troops  moved  off  with  a  quick,  elastic  step,  and 
were  brimful  of  enthusiasm.  Before  the  order  to  march 
was  given  there  existed  throughout  the  north  that  awful 
quiet  which  always  precedes  the  storm  of  impending 
crisis.  The  people  realized  that  the  final  struggle  was 
at  hand. 

There  was  an  ominous  hush  on  that  May  morning,  in 
1864,  when  the  advance  of  the  great  army  took  up  its 
march  toward  the  Rapidan.  All  were  moving  at  the 
command  of  one  whose  lips  never  gave  utterance  to  an 
indiscreet  word,  whose  plans  even  those  high  in  author- 
ity did  not  know  and  could  not  divine.  And  Lee,  almost 
as  silent  as  his  opponent,  was  waiting  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  historic  river  for  the  attack.  He,  like  his 
great  antagonist,  had  stripped  for  the  last  fight.  If 
he  were  not  beaten  now,  his  final  success  was  sure.  The 
man  from  the  Golden  West  was  truly  the  nation's  last 
hope.  The  government  had  made  the  last  throw  on 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS     257 

the  chessboard  of  war.  All  is  now  ready  for  the  great 
battle  which  is  to  follow  so  soon. 

It  was  a  brilliant  scene  that  met  the  eye,  as  regiment 
after  regiment  filed  out  of  the  camps,  with  flags  stream- 
ing in  the  breeze,  arms  glimmering  in  the  sunlight,  and 
guidons  unfurled.  Stirring  bugle  notes  awoke  the 
ghosts  of  the  forest,  cheer  after  cheer  went  up  from 
the  brave  hearts  that  soon  were  to  stop  forever,  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  Wilderness. 

The  fifth  corps  crossed  the  Rapidan  at  Ely's  Ford, 
and  bivouacked  there  for  the  night,  near  the  Wilderness 
Tavern.  The  scene  there  that  night  was  picturesque  in 
the  extreme.  Fires  had  been  lighted  by  the  roadside, 
and  the  whole  sky  was  lighted  up  by  their  glare.  Han- 
cock's corps  camped  that  night  at  Chancellorsville,  on 
the  old  battlefield.  Barlow's  division  marched  along 
the  road  in  the  gathering  darkness,  singing  "John 
Brown's  Body."  No  one  present  will  forget  the  weird 
music  of  that  night.  They  had  asked  all  along  for  a 
man  of  action,  and  they  now  found  that  .one  had  come. 
Already  his  power  ran  through  the  army  like  an  electric 
current. 

Then  followed  the  memorable  two-days  battle  of  the 
Wilderness,  with  all  its  dramatic  incidents  and  fearfHil 
carnage.  The  tangled  undergrowth,  the  forest  fires, 
and  the  difficulty  of  distinguishing  friend  from  foe,  all 
combined  to  make  it  the  most  spectacular,  as  it  was  the 
most  decisive  battle  of  the  war.  With  the  dose  of  the 
fighting  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  it  appeared 
to  most  of  the  Northern  corps  and  division  commanders 


258  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

that  the  battle  was  over.    In  this  belief,  there  was  error 
of  the  gravest  nature. 

For  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  came  one  of  the 
most  trying  moments  in  all  the  story  of  this  strange 
battle.  Sedgwick's  troops,  tired  and  sore  with  the  long 
battle,  had  encamped  for  the  night.  Evening  shadows, 
had  fallen  so  fast  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  forest 
that  this  had  prevented  any  true  alignment  along  the 
front  of  the  Southern  sixth  corps.  At  this  time  Gor- 
don, the  "Chevalier  Bayard"  of  the  southern  army,  ob- 
tained permission  from  Early  to  allow  him  to  make  his 
famous  night  attack  in  the  Wilderness.  Suddenly  the 
woods  in  front  of  Seymour's  and  Shaler's  brigades 
were  lighted  up  by  a  volley  of  musketry.  Through  the 
darkened  woods  came  a  stream,  of  leaden  missiles.  Not- 
withstanding that  night  had  wrapped  the  gloomy  woods 
in  darkness,  the  roar  of  the  battle  rose  higher.  It 
lighted  up  the  forest  depths  with  an  unearthly  light. 
Just  at  this  time,  there  came  aides  galloping  to  the  Fed- 
eral commander's  headquarters,  evidently  laboring 
under  intense  excitement.  Their  reports  were  indeed 
disheartening. 

One  said  that  Ferrero's  division  had  been  cut  off  and 
forced  back  upon  the  Rapidan ;  that  both  Sedgwick  and 
Wright  had  been  captured,  and  that  Shaler's  and  Sey- 
mour's brigades  had  been  made  prisoners.  Such  tales 
of  disaster  as  they  told  would  have  been  enough  to  in- 
spire apprehension  in  the  hours  of  daylight,  and  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  and 
after  a  man's  nerves  had  been  racked  by  the  strain  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    259 

the  two  days'  desperate  battle,  the  most  immovable  com- 
mander might  well  have  been  shaken. 

But  nothing  seemed  to  disturb  the  perfect  poise  of 
the  one  whose  master-mind  was  directing  the  movements 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  during  these  two  days  of 
battle.  He  remembered  how  he  had  cut  his  way  out  at 
Belmont  when  surrounded  by  the  enemy.  He  recalled 
that  dark  hour  which  preceded  the  last  charge  at  Don- 
elson,  which  led  him  and  his  troops  to  victory.  He  had 
not  forgotten  those  hours  of  carnage  and  confusion  at 
Shiloh.  He  was  not  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  his 
was  that  daring  movement  at  Vicksburg  when,  cutting 
himself  loose  from  his  base  of  supplies,  he  placed  him- 
self between  the  southern  commanders,  Johnston  and 
Pemberton,  fighting  and  whipping  each  in  turn.  He 
had  ended  by  capturing  an  army.  He  well  knew  that  to 
him  alone  was  due  the  fact  that  victory  had  been  gained 
from  what  seemed  like  almost  certain  defeat  at  Mission- 
ary Ridge  and  Lookout  Mountain.  There  was  on  his 
face  that  night  that  look  which  only  appeared  on  his 
face  in  moments  of  supreme  peril.  His  staff  and  the 
old-time  leaders  of  that  veteran  army  gazed  at  him 
that  night  with  a  feeling  of  awe  that  they  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal. 

Without  the  change  of  a  muscle  or  the  slightest  alter- 
ation of  the  tones  of  his  voice,  he  quickly  interrogated 
the  officers  who  brought  the  reports.  Then,  quietly  and 
without  the  slightest  excitement,  he  gave  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning  the  necessary  orders.  Reinforce- 
ments were  hurried  to  the  points  of  attack  and  the  con- 
federates were  soon  forced  back  to  their  original  posi- 


260  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

tion.  In  one  instance,  at  least,  where  one  of  his  subor- 
dinates became  too  persistent  in  telling  him  what  Lee 
was  doing,  he  spoke  these  words  of  reprimand :  "I  am 
heartily  tired  of  constantly  hearing  what  Lee  is  going 
to  do.  Some  of  you  seem  to  think  that  he  is  going  to 
perform  a  miracle  and  at  the  same  time  attack  our  front 
rank  and  our  rear  and  on  both  of  our  flanks.  Go  back 
to  your  command  and  think  what  you  are  going  to  do 
yourself  instead  of  always  worrying  over  what  Lee  is 
going  to  do." 

And  so  night  fell,  and  the  great  army  is  given  time 
to  think.  There  was  a  strange  weight  in  the  hearts  of 
all.  It  was  not  solely  because  old  things  had  passed 
away  and  old  leaders  departed.  In  the  sundering  of  old 
ties  there  is  always  a  strain,  and  there  is  anxiety  felt  as 
to  what  the  new  ties  will  bring.  It  was  not  victory  alone 
for  which  this  army  was  fighting.  It  looked  to  a  cause, 
to  the  end.  They  pondered  well  on  the  worth  and  cost 
of  it  all  and  what  the  end  might  unfold,  of  which  this 
was  the  beginning.  Some  of  the  soldiers  grouped  them- 
selves into  little  squads  against  the  gloomy  tree  trunks, 
near  the  fires.  Others  stretched  themselves  on  the 
ground  moistened  by  the  dews  of  the  night  and  the 
blood  of  the  slain,  and  there  they  spoke  in  whispers, 
almost  with  awe. 

They  wondered  what  the  man  of  iron  would  do  next. 
Had  the  victorious  star  in  the  West  come  East  only  to 
sink  there  below  the  horizon?  The  future  alone  could 
tell.  And  as  the  stars  shone  out  of  the  clear  sky  and 
shed  their  light  over  the  shadows  of  the  Wilderness, 
there  came  to  them  the  thought  that  above  this  field  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

carnage,  above  the  sky  and  above  those  twinkling  stars, 
was  the  all-merciful  Father  who  held  in  the  hollow  of 
His  hand  the  outcome  of  this  great  conflict. 

The  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  it  is  true,  was  under- 
stood least  of  all  by  the  soldiers  who  fought  in  it  on 
either  side.  Years  must  elapse  before  it  is  understood 
aright,  and  yet  there  were  some  things  they  did  realize. 
In  place  of  the  pomp  of  war  had  come  this  last  death- 
grapple  in  the  Wilderness.  Under  their  new  commander 
they  felt  that  the  army  had  become  a  machine,  endowed 
with  intellect,  and  knowing  that  only  by  the  shedding  of 
the  blood  was  the  reward  of  the  nation's  salvation  to 
be  obtained.  It  knew  that  the  sanguinary  contests  of 
the  past  had  never  been  fought  to  full  fruition,  and  that 
from  henceforth  they  would  be.  It  knew  its  own  temper. 
It  knew  that  the  great  leader  so  long  sought  for  had 
been  found.  It  felt  sure  that  under  his  leadership,  with 
all  his  fearful  aggressiveness,  no  more  lives  would  be 
lost  in  battle  than  had  been  wasted  by  disease  in  the 
past.  It  felt  that  from  now  on  it  could  do  and  dare 
everything  under  its  new  leader,  for  through  him  must 
come  the  country's  salvation. 

While  some  of  the  features  of  the  battle  of  the  Wil- 
derness are  to  be  found  in  other  engagements,  no  battle 
ever  took  place  on  such  ground.  For  two  days  two 
hundred  thousand  veteran  troops  had  struggled  in  a 
death-grapple,  confronted  at  each  step  by  almost  every 
obstacle  by  which  nature  could  bar  their  way,  through 
tangled  forest,  the  impenetrable  gloom  of  which  could 
be  likened  only  to  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
The  undergrowth  stayed  their  progress.  The  branches 


262  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

overhead  shut  out  the  light  from  the  heaven.  Officers 
could  scarcely  see  their  troops  for  any  considerable  dis- 
tance, for  smoke  clouded  their  vision  and  shut  out  the 
light  of  the  sun.  It  was  a  battle  fought  with  ear  and 
not  with  eye.  The  circumstances  seemed  to  combine  to 
make  the  scene  one  of  unutterable  horror.  At  times  the 
wind  howled  through  the  trees,  mingling  its  moans  with 
the  groans  of  the  dying.  Heavy  branches  were  cut  off 
by  the  fierce  fire  of  the  musketry  and  fell  crashing  upon 
the  heads  of  the  men,  adding  a  new  turn  to  the  battle. 
Forest  fires  raged.  Ammunition  trains  exploded.  The 
dead  were  roasted  in  the  conflagration.  The  wounded, 
aroused  by  its  heated  breath,  dragged  themselves  along 
with  torn  and  mangled  limbs  in  mad  energy  of  despair 
to  escape  the  ravages  of  the  flames.  It  was  as  though 
Christian  men  had  turned  fiends  and  hell  itself  had 
usurped  the  place  of  earth.  Few  of  the  movements 
could  be  seen,  and  the  progress  of  the  battle  was  known 
to  the  senses  chiefly  by  the  rising  and  falling  sounds  of 
the  musketry  that  swept  along  the  line  of  battle  miles 
in  length,  sounds  which  at  times  approached  the 
sublime.  All  this,  that  there  might  be  written  in  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  the  abolition  of 
slavery,  that  it  might  be  known  to  all  men  that  we  were 
a  Union,  and  not  a  confederation  of  states. 

And  still,  after  the  battle  the  revelry  at  the  rebel 
capital  grew  louder.  Only  the  commander  on  the  field 
saw  then  for  the  first  time  the  handwriting  on  the  wall. 
From  the  day  of  the  Wilderness,  Lee,  though  he  never 
confessed  it,  must  have  known  that  he  was  leading  a 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    263 

hopeless  cause.  The  iron  had  entered  his  soul  there  for 
the  first  time. 

And  what  of  the  morrow?  It  was  whispered  that 
night,  around  the  camp-fires  of  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, that  if  the  "Man  of  Destiny"  turned  North  when 
the  army  moved  out  of  the  Wilderness,  the  future  of  the 
republic  would  be  torn  by  the  shadow  of  permanent  dis- 
union, but  if  he  should  turn  South  they  all  felt  that  it 
would  be  the  beginning  of  the  end.  And  what  was  the 
"Man  of  Destiny"  doing  at  this  hour — he  who  had 
dared  to  contest  for  supremacy  with  the  great  leader  of 
the  confederacy?  He  was  sitting,  at  that  moment, 
alone  by  the  camp-fire,  his  hat  low  over  his  face,  buried 
in  thought.  He  was  haggard  and  worn,  but  he  was 
relentless.  There  came  into  his  face  that  night  the  old 
resolute  look  which  his  fellow-cadets  had  seen  that 
memorable  day  at  West  Point  when  in  the  riding  acad- 
emy he  had  ridden  "York"  to  victory. 

And  while  he  sat  there,  there  came  a  messenger  bring- 
ing him  tidings  that  Benedict,  his  well-beloved  aide,  lay 
dying  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  wished  to  speak  with 
him  before  he  died.  Without  a  moment's  delay,  he  has- 
tened to  the  bedside  of  his  dying  friend. 


CHAPTER   XXXIH 

THE  BLOOD  ATONEMENT 

IT  was  the  night  of  the  second  day's  battle  of  the 
Wilderness.  The  sound  of  the  mighty  conflict  had  died 
away.  The  awful  carnage  of  the  fateful  day  was  over. 
A  temporary  peace,  such  as  it  was,  had  settled  over  the 
two  armies  that  only  a  few  hours  before  had  been  locked 
in  a  death-grapple.  The  first  lull  in  the  greatest 
campaign  in  American  history  had  come  after  long 
hours  of  conflict.  Silence — broken  only  by  the  cries 
and  moans  of  the  wounded — brooded  over  the  battlefield. 

At  a  point  just  outside  the  federal  lines,  near  the  spot 
where  Gordon  had  made  his  fierce  night  attack,  lay 
John  Benedict,  himself  a  victim  of  the  successful  at- 
tempt to  drive  back  the  intrepid  southern  leader  and  his 
valiant  troopers.  He  had  lain  there  for  two  long  hours, 
with  his  life  blood  slowly  ebbing  away,  but  too  sorely 
wounded  to  be  moved.  He  was  alone  now,  his  only  com- 
panion, his  orderly  (who  had  found  him  wounded  on  the 
battlefield  and  had  done  for  him  all  that  could  be  done 
under  such  circumstances),  having  a  short  time  before 
gone,  at  the  wounded  man's  -earnest  direction,  to  head- 
quarters with  the  request  that  if  possible  the  federal 

364 


THE  BLOOD  ATONEMENT  265 

commander  might  come  to  him  a  moment  before  he  died. 
Now  footsteps  might  have  been  heard  approaching,  and 
suddenly  there  appeared  under  the  bright  starlight, 
the  figure  of  the  orderly,  followed  by  the  familiar  form 
of  the  "silent  soldier."  The  orderly  led  the  way  to 
where  the  staff  officer  lay,  with  his  life  now  all  but 
spent.  The  federal  chieftain  approached  his  side,  and, 
leaning  over  him,  gazed  into  his  face  and  spoke. 

"Benedict,  do  you  know  me  ?" 

A  smile  played  round  the  lips  of  the  stricken  man,  as 
he  replied,  in  a  voice  that  was  weak  and  low:  "Yes, 
General.  It  was  indeed  good  of  you  to  come." 

Then  when  the  officer  attempted  to  utter  some  word 
of  hope  and  encouragement,  he  interrupted  him  by 
saying : 

"No,  my  last  hour  is  at  hand,  and  it  finds  me  where  I 
have  always  hoped  and  prayed  that  it  would,  wounded 
on  the  field  of  battle,  while  fighting,  not  for  my  country 
— for  I  have  no  right  to  claim  it  as  such — but  to  wipe 
away  in  my  own  blood  a  stain  left  by  one  whose  name  I 
bear.  My  real  name  you  have  never  known,  and  it  was 
this  which  caused  me  to  send  for  you  to-night  at  such 
an  hour.  Humble  though  I  am,  the  message  which  I 
send  through  you  to-night  is  not  to  friends  or  kin,  but 
is  for  the  nation ;  both  those  in  your  own  army  and 
those  from  whom  I  received  my  wounds. 

"General,  they  tell  me — though  I  have  never  seen  it 
myself — that  at  West  Point,  in  one  of  the  Academy 
buildings,  there  are  a  number  of  slabs  on  which  are  writ- 
ten in  letters  of  gold  the  names  of  the  Revolutionary- 
heroes  ;  that  midway  between  two  honored  names  printed 


266  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

in  gold  letters,  there  appears  a  blank  block.  Above  and 
below  is  shown  the  tips  of  gold  letters,  just  enough  to 
enable  all  who  see  it  to  know  what  it  is  intended  to  con- 
ceal. A  block  of  marble  set  in  transversely  across  the 
golden  capitals  has  blotted  out  for  all  time,  one  name 
off  the  roll  of  American  men  of  honor." 

Here  the  voice  of  the  wounded  man  grew  husky. 
"That  name  is  the  one  borne  by  my  grandfather,  and 
he  was  Benedict  Arnold.  I,  sir,  am  John  Benedict 
Arnold.  You  say,  and  rightly,  that  he  was  a  traitor. 
That  shame  was  not  only  his  when  he  lived,  but  has  fol- 
lowed his  descendants  even  to  the  present  hour.  It  has 
been  handed  down  as  a  tradition  in  our  family  that  he 
penciled  on  paper  when  he  was  dying,  three  words — 
'Remorse,  remorse,  remorse.'  I  believe  that  tradition  to 
be  founded  on  truth. 

"Though  I  am  an  alien  to  you  and  the  nation,  I  claim 
the  right  to  regard  it  even  as  one  of  the  nation's  own 
sons.  I  love  the  Union  for  the  grandeur  of  its  past  and 
present,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  all  that  has  been 
gained  in  the  past  is  imperilled  by  the  present  struggle. 
As  a  soldier  I  have  grown  to  love  that  grand  old  flag  of 
the  great  Republic  as  only  one  can  love  it  who  has 
fought  under  its  banner,  and  regards  it  with  a  love 
which  can  only  be  measured  by  his  willingness  to  die  for 
it.  Torn,  riddled  and  bloodstained,  the  old  flag  is 
dearer  to  me  than  life  itself.  And,  General,  as  I  lie  here 
with  the  shadow  of  death  settling  upon  me,  I  feel  the 
gift  of  prophecy  strong  within  me.  I  have  faith  to  be- 
lieve that  under  your  guidance  the  day  is  not  far  distant 
when  this  bitter  war  shall  end.  I  know  that  when  that 


THE  BLOOD  ATONEMENT  267 

time  comes  those  who  are  now  fighting  against  the  flag 
will  shed  tears  that  the  cause  for  which  they  risked 
their  lives  should  have  been  lost  forever.  I  think  it  will 
not  be  long  before  they  will  see  that  God  was  kinder  to 
them  than  they  were  to  themselves,  and  that  it  was  His 
fixed  purpose  that  the  Union  should  be  preserved.  Then 
at  least  they  will  realize  that  it  has  come  to  stay,  and 
that  no  power  of  men  can  overthrow  it.  That  you  and 
your  supporters  are  fighting  to  save  them  from  them- 
selves. 

"I  have  told  you,  in  part,  why  I,  a  stranger  in  this 
land,  enlisted  in  the  armies  of  the  Union.  It  was  in  part 
to  do  what  I  could  to  wipe  out  the  obloquy  that  attached 
itself  to  the  name  of  one  who  was  false  to  the  trust  that 
was  placed  in  his  hands,  and  yet,  that  was  not  all.  I 
wanted  to  be  'with  you,  and  to  fight  at  your  side.  I 
have  seen  you  pass  through  the  shadows  and  dark  places 
of  life,  and  I  wanted  to  be  near  you  when  cheered  by  the 
sunshine  of  success,  you  attained  to  the  highest  and 
best.  But  it  is  not  to  be.  My  race  is  nearly  run.  With 
it  all  I  am  content." 

As  the  stricken  soldier  spoke  these  words,  Burton 
realized  that  there  was.  not  a  false  note  in  Benedict's 
character.  He  had  nothing  to  regret  when  the  time 
came  to  give  up  his  life.  Ah,  true  it  is  that  to  spend 
and  be  spent  is  the  fate  of  the  soldier.  That  when  men 
like  John  Benedict  pass  away,  much  of  the  treasured 
sunshine  of  the  world  vanishes  with  them.  How  true  it 
was  then,  when  the  conflict  came,  that  such  men  as  he 
who  had  no  part  in  the  causes  which  led  to  it,  laid  down 
their  lives  with  a  smile,  while  many  a  one  who  had  done 


268 

his  best  to  precipitate  the  struggle  never  went  to  the 
front. 

And  now  the  commander  speaks:  "Benedict,  in  the 
years  to  come  our  country  will  be  proud  of  the  fact  that 
she  had  service  from  such  a  man  as  you,  and  will  grieve 
that  she  has  lost  you,  and  prayers  will  be  offered  that 
she  may  have  more  like  you.  True  it  is  that  we  must  all 
die,  sooner  or  later,  and  the  man  is  indeed  happy  who 
meets  death  in  the  discharge  of  duty.  This  may  be 
your  fate.  If  so,  remember  that  you  have  done  your 
duty,  and  the  consciousness  of  that,  for  a  soldier,  robs 
death  of  all  its  terrors." 

These  words  of  the  commander  were  indeed  grateful 
to  the  soul  of  him  to  whom  they  were  spoken.  His  eyes 
brightened  and  a  beautiful  smile  flickered  on  his  lips. 
And  then  he  spoke  once  more. 

"General,  if,  as  you  have  often  said,  I  have  been  of 
service  to  you  in  times  past,  I  want  to  make  a  last  re- 
quest of  you.  I  want  to  learn  from  your  own  lips  be- 
fore I  drop  into  that  last  sleep  from  which  there  is  no 
awakening,  that  when  this  great  army  moves,  as  it  must 
do  sooner  or  later,  it  will  not  be  as  it  has  been  in  times 
past,  a  retreat — but  that  instead,  it  will  be  a  march  for- 
ward in  the  direction  of  Richmond.  Then — though  I 
shall  not  live  to  see  the  end — I  shall  know  that  the  Union 
will  be  finally  preserved." 

And  as  his  eyes,  glazed  in  death,  looked  into  those  of 
the  great  warrior — his  one-time  friend  of  the  sailors' 
boarding-house  in  San  Francisco — he  heard  these 
words: 

"Benedict,  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  shall  never  re- 


THE  BLOOD  ATONEMENT  269 

treat  so  long  as  I  am  in  command.      I  promise  you 
this." 

And  then,  still  kneeling  at  his  side,  the  two  men,  no 
longer  as  chief  and  subordinate,  but  as  friends  who  were 
to  part  forever,  clasped  hands  for  the  last  time.  John 
Benedict  spoke  no  more.  The  next  evening  at  sunset, 
while  the  federal  army  still  rested  on  the  late  field  of 
battle,  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  grandson  of  Benedict 
Arnold  found  its  last  resting  place  within  the  recesses 
of  the  Wilderness.  And  as  the  commander  himself  stood 
over  the  open  grave,  within  which  lay  all  that  was  mor- 
tal of  his  friend,  he  took  the  sword  that  he  himself  had 
given  Benedict,  broke  it,  and  threw  it  into  the  opening. 
He  looked  downward  and  for  a  moment  the  tears  rolled 
from  his  eyes.  His  thoughts  then  for  a  moment,  uncon- 
sciously to  himself,  found  utterance  in  these  words : 

"Poor  Benedict,  though  an  alien,  he  was  a  patriot  of 
the  patriots,  pure  in  thought  and  deed,  a  man  whose 
heart  knew  no  guile.  Be  content,  dear  friend,  faithful 
to  God  and  man,  your  warfare  is  over,  your  crown  is 
won.  As  for  me,  my  battle  is  but  just  begun." 

But  hark !  One  hears  now  the  low  rat-tat  of  the  last 
tattoo  and  the  bugle-notes  of  the  soldier's  requiem. 
Good-night,  brave  soldier.  Put  out  the  lights.  All's 
well. 

No  volleys  were  fired  over  the  grave,  and  the  soldiers 
merely  wheeled  into  column  and  marched  slowly  away. 
A  moment  later  the  commander  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

And  did  he  keep  his  word  of  promise  to  the  other? 
History  answers  "yes,"  for  on  the  night  of  Benedict's 


270  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

burial  came  the  order  to  undertake  the  historic  night 
march  to  Spottsylvania  Court  House.  When  the  order 
was  received  by  the  troops  a  note  of  exultation  ran 
through  the  ranks.  "No  more  retreats  for  the  patient 
men  in  the  ranks.  On  to  Richmond !  Lee  no  longer 
commands  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  We  have  a  gen- 
eral of  our  own  at  last."  Then,  while  cheers  arose,  reg- 
iment after  regiment  took  up  their  arms  and  moved  by 
the  left  flank  on  that  great  campaign  which  was  to  end 
only  at  Appomattox.  And  that  night  the  "Han  of  Des- 
tiny" rode  to  Todd's  Tavern,  where  he  was  to  rest  until 
morning,  and  his  ride,  lighted  as  it  was  by  the  torches 
carried  by  the  marching  troops,  was  one  grand  ovation. 
It  assumed  all  the  aspects  of  a  triumphal  march.  Lee 
had  made  his  last  serious  offensive  move,  and  now  in 
very  truth  had  come  the  "beginning  of  the  end." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  SAVING  OF  A  NATION 

SPOTTSYI/VANIA  and  Cold  Harbor  followed  the  Wil- 
derness in  quick  succession,  and  then  there  came  those 
weeks  of  fearful  tension,  to  both  North  and  South,  when 
all  wondered  what  would  be  the  next  move  on  the  great 
chessboard  of  war. 

After  the  Wilderness,  it  was  not  Lee,  but  his  great 
adversary,  who  assumed  the  offensive  and  maintained  it 
to  the  end.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  hitherto  invin- 
cible leader  of  the  Southern  cause  said  to  a  friend,  "A 
few  more  such  campaigns  as  this  and  it  will  soon  be 
ended  just  as  I  have  feared  it  might  end,  from  the 
first." 

Unlike  all  the  campaigns  which  had  preceded  it,  the 
present  one  was  not  to  capture  Richmond,  but  to  de- 
stroy Lee's  army.  No  longer  were  notes  of  discord 
heard  from  the  fighting  editors,  who  never  won  a  battle. 
Their  scoffs  at  West  Point  science  had  long  since 
ceased.  For  one  was  now  in  command  who  had  mas- 
tered that  great  secret  of  military  success — the  knowl- 
edge when  to  offer  or  accept  battles,  when  to  refrain 
or  decline.  For  two  days  Lee  neither  knew  nor  could 
learn  where  his  adversary  had  gone.  He  had  disap- 

271 


272  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

peared  as  if  by  magic.  Then  he  awoke  to  the  knowledge 
that  in  his  very  face  the  enemy  had  crossed  a  difficult 
river  and  was  now  on  the  south  side  of  the  James.  Then 
it  was  that  Lincoln  telegraphed :  "I  begin  to  see  it  now. 
You  will  succeed.  God  bless  you  all." 

And  his  words  were  indeed  prophetic.  By  the  close 
of  1864,  the  "Man  of  Destiny"  had  accomplished  won- 
drous results.  Sherman,  the  great  strategist  and  mas- 
ter of  the  tactics  of  war,  was  at  Savannah,  after  his 
famous  march  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea.  Sheridan,  the 
irrepressible  "rough  rider"  of  his  day,  had  annihilated 
Early's  army.  Hood's  army  had  first  been  wounded  to 
the  death  by  Schofield  at  Franklin  and  then  all  but  de- 
stroyed by  Thomas  at  Nashville.  Price  had  been  driven 
out  of  Mississippi  and  Breckinridge  had  been  taken  in 
East  Tennessee,  and  Fort  Fisher  and  Wilmington  had 
fallen.  Candee  had  been  successful  in  Louisiana,  while 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  held  Lee's  army  as  if  in  a  vise, 
in  the  trenches  at  Petersburg. 

On  March  28th,  1865,  was  held  the  historic  confer- 
ence on  the  River  Queen,  near  City  Point,  on  the  James. 
There  met  not  only  the  great  war  President  and  his 
lieutenant-general,  but  Sherman,  Sheridan,  Meade  and 
Porter  as  well. 

Finally  came  the  last  and  successful  assault  on  the 
lines  at  Petersburg,  followed  by  the  fierce  struggle  to 
reach  Danville,  and  from  there  unite  with  Johnston's 
army.  After  the  evacuation  it  was  said  that  the  con- 
federate soldiers  averaged  one  square  meal  and  three 
fights  a  day.  Lee's  plan  had  been  to  give  up  Peters- 
burg, thus  cutting  the  federal  general  off  from  his  base 


THE  SAVING  OF  A  NATION  273 

of  supplies,  and  then  turn  and  deal  him  a  crushing  blow. 
The  plan  wholly  failed.  Instead  Sheridan  cut  off  Lee's 
retreat  to  Danville,  and  he  was  forced  to  fight  or  sur- 
render. Game  to  the  last,  he  chose  the  first  of  these 
alternatives.  Then  it  was  that  Sheridan,  though  seldom 
at  a  loss  to  accept  responsibilities,  feeling  the  responsi- 
bility too  great  for  him  to  bear  alone,  telegraphed  his 
superior  at  Petersburg  from  his  own  headquarters  at 
Farmville:  "I  wish  you  were  here  yourself." 

That  night  his  chief  took  that  dramatic  thirty-mile 
ride,  through  an  enemy's  country,  accompanied  only  by 
his  staff.  It  had  all  the  lights  and  shadows  of  mediaeval 
romance  in  it.  As  he  approached  the  headquarters  of 
the  hero  of  Winchester,  in  the  early  hours  of  an  April 
spring  morning,  the  tired  troopers  woke  up  and  sprang 
to  their  feet.  Then  the  word  was  passed  along  the  line : 
"The  great  chief  is  here  himself.  That  means  there 
will  be  relentless  fighting  on  the  morrow."  Then  from 
scores  of  throats  rang  out  cheers  for  the  one  who  had 
led  them,  through  carnage  and  death,  to  this  hour  of 
expectant  triumph.  After  supper  on  the  eve  of  this 
day,  April  7,  1865,  there  were  loud  cries  for  the  Lieu- 
tenant-General  as  the  troops  marched  by  his  temporary 
headquarters  at  Farmville,  on  their  way  to  take  part  in 
the  closing  scenes  of  the  great  war  drama,  and  when  he 
appeared,  an  involuntary  review  was  held  there.  Fires 
were  lighted,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  hour  was  in- 
tense. But  later  that  same  night  came  the  hour  when 
action  must  take  the  place  of  the  spectacular.  The 
order  must  now  be  given  which  would  determine 
whether  Robert  E.  Lee  would  be  compelled  at  last  to 


274  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

write  the  word  "surrender"  after  his  name.  In  many 
ways  that  night  at  Farmville  was  the  greatest  in  the 
military  life  of  the  federal  commander-in-chief.  He 
was  truly  wonderful  that  night.  He  was  at  his  great- 
est. His  actions  were  prompt.  His  ideas  rapid.  His 
judgment  decisive.  He  was  absorbed,  intent  and  relent- 
less. With  a  force  like  granite  he  wrote  the  orders 
which  were  to  transform  a  living  issue  into  a  "Lost 
Cause."  His  intimates,  even  those  who,  like  Rankin, 
had  known  him  since  "cadet  days,"  stood  apart  from 
him  in  awe  that  night.  He  was  in  truth  the  "Man  of 
Destiny"  set  apart  by  an  all-wise  Providence  to  accom- 
plish the  "saving  of  a  nation." 

On  the  night  of  April  8th,  Lee  held  his  last  council  of 
war  by  the  roadside  near  Appomattox.  There  were  with 
him  that  night  Longstreet,  "Fitz"  Lee  and  Gordon.  Lee 
stood  before  a  blazing  fire,  Longstreet  sat  on  a  log, 
while  Gordon  reclined  on  a  pallet.  Each  in  turn  advised 
him  that  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  on  the  follow- 
ing morn  but  to  surrender  the  troops  under  his 
command. 

And  then  came  Appomattox.  Nowhere  did  the  "Silent 
Commander"  stand  out  in  such  superb  light  as  seen  by 
the  dying  campfires  that  smoldered  on  the  eve  of 
that  great  ninth  day  of  April,  1865.  And  then  the  day 
itself  arrived  in  the  glory  of  a  bright  sun  and  a  cloud- 
less sky.  What  did  it  all  mean?  No  guns  in  position, 
with  the  enemy's  columns  so  near !  No  preparation  for 
action !  A  dreamy  momentary  sadness  seemed  to 
descend  through  that  April  air  and  change  the  scene. 
Silence  so  deep  that  the  movements  of  the  leaves  in  the 


THE  SAVING  OF  A  NATION  275 

trees  could  be  heard.  There  was  nothing  visible  in  front 
but  that  distant  column  standing  behind  its  white  flag. 
No  band  played.  No  charge  was  heard. 

The  contrast  at  Appomattox  was  most  marked.  The 
Northern  commander  was  forty-three.  His  hair  and 
full  beard  were  nut-brown,  without  a  trace  of  gray  in 
them.  He  had  on  a  single-breasted  blouse  of  dark  blue 
flannel,  unbuttoned  in  front  and  showing  a  waistcoat 
underneath.  He  wore  top  boots  without  spurs.  He  was 
splattered  with  mud.  His  felt  "sugar-loaf"  stiff- 
brimmed  hat  was  resting  on  his  lap.  His  shoulder- 
straps  alone  told  his  rank.  Lee,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
six  feet  one,  and  fifty-nine  years  old.  His  hair  and 
beard  were  silver-gray.  In  a  new  full-dress  uniform  he 
never  looked  more  the  ideal  soldier  than  on  the  morn 
of  Appomattox.  Before  another  sun  should  set,  the 
great  ordeal  of  battle  would  be  over. 

Now  the  gray  coat  would  be  taken  off  for  the  last 
time  and  folded  up  and  put  away.  There  it  will  lie,  a 
mute  but  eloquent  emblem  to  generations  yet  unborn  of 
the  "Lost  Cause"  for  which  their  fathers  fought  in 
vain.  Of  it  it  has  been  written:  "It  is  rough,  it  is 
worn,  it  is  tattered  in  places,  but  he  loves  it  the  more 
for  the  story  it  bears."  Of  the  outcome  of  the  sur- 
render at  Appomattox,  it  has  been  beautifully  said : 

"One  cause,  one  God,  one  grave.  Peace  to  them  both. 
Green  be  the  grass  that  waves  over  it  and  light  the  sod 
that  is  heaped  above  them. 

"Let  us  have  peace.  Let  the  'Blue*  and  the  'Gray' 
slumber  side  by  side  under  the  pines  and  cypresses,  the 
live-oaks  and  the  magnolias.  The  same  flowers  mantle 


276  THE  MAN*  OF  DESTINY 

their  dreamless  beds,  the  same  birds  twitter  above  them, 
the  same  waters  ripple  at  their  feet." 

There  is  probably  no  parallel  in  history  to  the  refusal 
of  the  federal  commander  to  ride  as  a  conqueror 
through  Richmond  after  the  surrender  at  Appomattox. 
To  a  Napoleon  the  entrance  to  the  besieged  city  would 
have  seemed  a  fitting  climax  to  great  military  success. 
To  ride  through  its  streets,  with  drums  beating,  flags 
flying,  while  the  besieged  inhabitants  looked  on  with 
fear  and  dread,  would  have  seemed  to  the  soulless  Cor- 
sican  but  the  apotheosis  of  the  culmination  of  a  great 
campaign.  And  with  the  surrender  of  Appomattox, 
came  many  a  reunion  of  the  "Blue  and  the  Gray." 
Some  had  been  classmates  together  at  West  Point.  It 
was  at  one  of  these  gatherings  around  the  campfires 
following  the  surrender  that  the  valiant  Longstreet 
affirmed  that  "he  had  never  seen  the  old  flag,  even  in 
the  battle  front,  without  tears  in  his  eyes." 

"I  went  into  this  war,"  he  said,  "believing  that  the 
cause  for  which  I  fought  was  just  and  would  prevail.  I 
have  done  the  best  I  could  as  a  soldier  and  shed  bitter 
tears  when  the  end  came.  Yet  I  believe  I  shall  live  long 
enough  to  see  that  God  was  kinder  to  us  than  we  were 
to  ourselves  and  that  the  Union  should  be  preserved. 
At  any  rate,  I  am  in  it  now  to  stay,  and  no  power  of 
man  will  draw  me  or  mine  out  of  it  again." 

The  "Man  of  Appomattox"  had  now  arisen  to  the 
very  forefront  of  the  world's  greatest  commanders. 
His  name  was  always  the  harbinger  of  victory.  He  was 
the  most  aggressive  soldier  the  world  had  ever  seen.  He 
never  once  yielded  up  a  stronghold  that  he  had  wrested 


THE  SAVING  OF  A  NATION  277 

from  a  foe.  His  moral  qualities  were  the  greatest  of 
all.  He  was  calm  amid  excitement,  patient  under  trials, 
sure  in  judgment,  clear  in  foresight,  never  depressed  by 
reverses  or  unduly  elated  by  success.  He  was  always 
self-reliant.  He  was  the  "steadfast  center  about  and  on 
which  everything  else  turned." 

His  greatest  characteristics  as  a  commander  were 
measureless  persistence,  strength,  perfect  mastery  of 
details,  courage,  justice  to  those  under  him  and  a  capac- 
ity to  do  in  the  things  so  conspicuously  right  that  every 
one  wondered  they  had  never  been  thought  of  before. 

In  thirteen  months  after  his  commission  as  Lieu- 
tenant-General  was  handed  to  him  by  President  Lincoln, 
the  war  was  ended. 

And  when  the  historian  of  the  future  comes  to  write 
of  the  great  struggle,  what  will  he  write?  On  the  page 
in  letters  time  cannot  efface  will  be  written  one  name. 
His  sword  alone  cut  its  way  to  final  victory,  his  will 
alone  brought  the  light  of  victory  out  of  the  fearful 
darkness  of  the  night.  Of  whom  do  we  speak,  if  not  of 
him  whose  life-story  is  herein  told?  It  is  in  truth  the 
name  of  the  "Man  of  Destiny." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  GRAND   REVIEW 

THE  morning  of  the  23d  of  May,  1865,  broke  clear 
and  beautiful.  The  sun  streamed  down  upon  the  Na- 
tion's capital  with  all  the  brilliancy  of  a  perfect  spring 
day.  There  are  gathered  together  in  Washington  such 
an  assembly  as  had  never  before  been  seen  there.  From 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  the  nation  had  stripped  itself 
to  send  envoys  to  witness  the  passing  of  the  veteran 
hosts  through  the  gates  of  peace,  to  this  mecca  of  all 
these  3rears  of  conflict,  their  own  beloved  homes.  The 
country,  while  yet  quivering  from  the  wound  inflicted  by 
the  assassin's  hand  that  bereaved  it  of  the  martyred 
Lincoln,  had  yet  found  both  time  and  heart  to  welcome 
home  the  victors  in  a  fratricidal  war.  This  day  and  the 
one  that  followed  it  had  been  set  aside  for  the  grand 
review  of  the  armies  of  the  Republic,  before  they  should 
be  mustered  out  and  scattered  to  their  homes.  Never 
had  the  city  which  bears  the  name  of  the  father  of  his 
country  seen  a  more  imposing  sight  than  this  memora- 
ble return  of  the  battle-scarred  legions  from  camp  and 
battlefield  to  the  seat  of  the  government.  Each  day  the 
head  of  the  marching  column  rested  on  "Cppitol  Hill." 
On  the  north  end  of  the  capitol  itself,  the  scholars  of 

278 


THE  GRAND  REVIEW  279 

the  public  schools  had  taken  their  places.  The  boys, 
with  their  blue  jackets  decorated  with  rosettes,  were 
located  on  the  hill,  while  the  girls,  dressed  in  white  with 
many-colored  ribbons,  were  seated  on  the  capitol  steps. 
A  golden  sun  that  day  looked  down  on  interminable 
lines  of  bristling  bayonets  and  flashing  sabres.  The 
fiery  cavalry  steeds  pranced  to  the  well-known  bugle 
notes,  the  long  lines  of  infantry  with  burnished  arms 
flashed  in  the  sunlight,  the  thundering  wheels  of  the 
heavy  artillery  wagons  went  clattering  over  the  pave- 
ment. The  assembled  thousands  watched  with  mingled 
feelings  of  joy  and  sadness  the  passing  of  those  grizzled 
veterans  beneath  the  torn  and  bullet-riddled  emblems  of 
the  nation's  strength  and  power.  Joy  at  the  thought  of 
the  living,  the  conquerors  of  victory;  sadness  in  mem- 
ory of  the  mute  host  of  the  absent  comrades — those  who 
had  fallen  that  all  this  might  be.  Mothers,  sisters  and 
fathers  watched  for  the  passing  son  or  brother.  Fellow- 
townsmen  looked  with  eager  eye  for  the  coming  of  their 
home  company.  Citizens  of  loyal  commonwealths  felt  a 
thrill  of  just  pride  as  there  passed  in  perfect  alignment 
before  them  some  famous  regiment  which  proudly  bore 
the  name  of  their  beloved  state.  To-day  it  is  the  Army 
of  the  East,  200,000  strong,  with  their  leaders,  Meade, 
Parke,  Griffin,  Miles,  Barlow,  Mott,  Merritt,  Custer  and 
the  rest,  who  are  passing  in  review  before  their  beloved 
chief  and  the  dignitaries  of  the  nation.  To-morrow  it 
will  be  the  careless,  dare-devil  hosts  from  the  boundless 
golden  west  who  will  pass  by  with  that  same  long  swing- 
ing stride  which  carried  them  from  "Atlanta  to  the 
Sea."  They  will  have  their  true  and  tried  leaders  with 


280  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

them,  too.  The  matchless  Sherman  will  be  here  then, 
with  Logan,  Howard,  Blair,  Slocum,  Corse  and  Davies. 
Their  veteran  troops  may  not  show  the  same  discipline 
or  perfect  alignment  as  the  proud  victors  of  the  Wilder- 
ness, Petersburg  and  Appomattox,  but  their  banners 
are  emblazoned  with  the  magic  names  of  Donelson, 
Shiloh,  Vicksburg,  Chattanooga,  Atlanta,  Nashville, 
Franklin  and  Savannah. 

And  what  a  review  it  was !  That  regiment  there 
made  the  famous  charge  at  Gettysburg.  This  one  stood 
the  brunt  of  the  fierce  attack  of  Chickamauga.  That 
grizzled  soldier  there  has  marched  from  Belmont  to 
Appomattox.  That  sleeve  there  has  been  empty  since 
the  wondrous  charge  up  the  heights  of  Lookout  Moun- 
tain. Yonder  a  scar  appears  on  that  bronzed  cheek  in 
memory  of  that  hour  at  Aldie  when  "Kilpatrick  rode 
down  in  a  whirlwind  of  death."  That  veteran  limps 
still  from  Gordon's  night  attack  in  the  Wilderness. 
That  drummer  boy  yonder  beat  the  rally  on  the  river 
bank  at  Shiloh.  That  cavalryman  yonder  saw  Stuart 
fall  at  Yellow  Tavern.  That  regiment  there  marched 
with  Sherman  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea. 

Yet  even  the  strains  of  martial  music  attuned  to 
express  the  joyous  strains  of  victory  were  not  able  to 
drown  the  minor  note  that  lay  underneath  it  all.  There 
was  ever  present  the  thought  of  those  who  had  gone  out 
in  the  full  flush  and  vigor  of  manhood,  and  who  now 
slept  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking,  on  southern  bat- 
tlefields. As  one  pondered  over  the  memory  of  these, 
every  living  man  in  that  vast  army  seemed  to  be  accom- 
panied by  shadows  of  the  departed  warriors.  And  for 


THE  GRAND  REVIEW  281 

the  living — the  actors  in  this  great  pageant  that  was 
passing  before  their  eyes — there  came  the  solemn 
thought  that  the  grand  army  of  the  republic  as  an 
engine  of  fierce,  implacable,  fratricidal  war,  was  pass- 
ing out  of  mortal  sight,  into  everlasting  renown.  But 
while  these  great  armies  are  passing  in  review  before  the 
assembled  thousands  of  their  cheering  fellow-country- 
men, what  of  him  whose  genius  alone  had  made  all  this 
triumphant  review  a  reality?  Where  at  this  moment  is 
he  who  hurled  Lee  with  remorseless  force  from  the 
Rapidan  to  the  James,  who  shut  him  up  in  Petersburg 
and  surrounded  him  with  a  cordon  of  steel,  which 
he  was  destined  to  break,  only  to  his  own  self-destruc- 
tion ?  Where  was  he  who  had  received,  six  weeks  before, 
the  surrender  of  the  great  confederate  chieftain  at 
Appomattox? 

On  the  morning  of  the  23d  of  May,  shortly  before  the 
hour  of  nine,  two  officers  in  military  uniforms  might 
have  been  seen  leaving  the  headquarters  of  the  com- 
manding general  of  the  United  States  army.  Together, 
arm  in  arm,  they  walked  slowly  toward  the  reviewing- 
stand  erected  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  immediately  in 
front  of  the  White  House.  The  taller  of  the  two  was 
none  other  than  "Dad"  Rankin,  erstwhile  cadet  at  the 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point,  with  the  class  of  '43, 
but  now  Quartermaster-General  of  the  United  States. 
His  companion  was  a  man  of  medium  height,  somewhat 
inclined  to  be  stoop-shouldered,  and  he  wore  on  his 
shoulders  the  three  stars  which  he  alone  in  all  this  great 
army  of  the  Republic  had  the  right  to  wear. 

As  the  pair  approached  in  sight  of  the  reviewing- 


282  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

stand,  and  saw  the  multitude  that  had  assembled  in  that 
immediate  vicinity  even  at  this  early  hour,  it  brought 
forth  this  remark: 

"General,  when  we  were  'plebes'  together  at  the 
'Point,'  did  you  ever  think  you  would  live  to  see  a  day 
like  this? 

"No,  Dad,  I  did  not.  But  I  can  remember  at  the 
time  when  I  first  saw  General  Scott  at  review  there  that 
although  I  realized  that  I  could  never  resemble  him  in 
appearance,  I  had  a  presentiment  for  an  instant  that 
some  day  I  should  occupy  his  place  on  review." 

Just  at  this  moment  they  approached  and  ascended 
the  reviewing-stand.  Instantly  such  a  deafening  cheer 
went  from  the  throats  of  the  assembled  thousands  as 
.was  not  surpassed  in  volume  by  any  other  on  that  day 
of  unbounded  enthusiasm.  As  the  bearer  of  the  "three 
stars"  passed  alone  to  take  his  seat,  at  the  right  of  the 
President  and  next  to  Secretaries  Stanton  aad  Speed, 
the  people  on  the  stand  stood  and  cheered  him. 

And  of  what  was  "Dad"  Rankin  thinking,  as  he  sat 
beside  his  chief  that  day  and  watched  the  men  of  regi- 
ment after  regiment  moved,  as  if  by  an  irresistible 
Impulse,  swing  their  hats  in  the  air  and  give  three  cheers 
for  the  great  commander  whose  all-embracing  genius 
had  saved  the  nation?  Then  it  was  that  there  came  to 
him  the  consciousness  that  to  him  had  been  vouchsafed 
the  privilege  of  seeing  the  genesis  of  a  great  soul.  He 
could  trace  it  all  now,  in  the  light  of  a  friendship  that 
had  lasted  a  quarter  of  a  century.  Theee  were  the 
successive  steps  as  he  had  known  them:  First,  the 
simple-hearted  schoolboy,  unconscious  of  his  powers. 


THE  GRAND  REVIEW  283 

Next,  the  contestant  in  that  memorable  contest  in  the 
old  riding  academy,  where  he  had  tasted  for  the  first 
time  the  sweets  of  victory.  Then  the  severe  ordeal  of 
the  Mexican  War,  that  unrivalled  school  for  military 
heroes.  After  this,  the  long  years  of  eclipse,  when  his 
spirit  had  been  chastened  in  the  crucible  of  misfortune 
and  disappointment.  With  the  advent  of  the  Civil  War 
came  that  cry  of  anguish  from  the  great  heart  of  the 
loyal  North,  "Give  us  a  leader."  Then  how,  as  if  in 
answer  to  the  prayer,  there  appeared  out  of  the  clouds 
of  oblivion  and  the  smoke  of  battle  the  face  of  the  con- 
queror of  Donelson,  Shiloh,  Vicksburg  and  Chat- 
tanooga. The  nation  then  made  her  choice  of  leader- 
ship and  there  came  that  last  year  of  never-ending  con- 
flict, the  beginning  of  the  end.  He  remembered  how, 
amid  the  awful  smoke  and  carnage  of  the  Wilderness, 
the  real  soul  of  the  man  had  appeared  in  all  its  Titanic 
grandeur  before  their  eyes.  They  had  stood  awe-struck 
before  the  revelation.  It  had  needed  the  stress  of  just 
such  a  moment — when  the  fate  of  a  nation  rested  heav- 
ily on  his  shoulders — to  show  them  what  manner  of  man 
he  was.  From  that  hour  they  one  and  all  rendered  to 
him  the  tribute  which  was  his  alone.  They  might  be 
jealous  and  there  might  be  bickerings  among  them- 
selves ;  they  might  have  doubts  as  to  the  fitness  of  this 
man  or  that  to  command,  but  none  of  these  even  so 
much  as  touched  the  hem  of  his  garments.  He  was  so 
fair  and  just  to  all,  high  or  low,  so  absolutely  devoid 
of  selfish  ambition  or  lust  for  power,  so  willing  to  as- 
sume full  responsibility  under  all  circumstances,  so 
self-reliant,  so  far  above  them  all  in  moral  strength 


284  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

and  in  the  genius  of  war  that  he  passed  unscathed, 
where  others  before  him  had  stumbled  and  fallen.  And 
finally  there  came  the  thoughts  of  Appomattox,  and  the 
scene  enacted  there.  Here,  at  least,  was  a  chance  to 
find  a  flaw  in  the  armor  of  his  chief.  Ah,  no.  Never 
had  the  greatness  of  the  "Man  of  Destiny"  shown  out 
in  clearer,  truer  light  than  on  the  day  when  he  received 
the  surrender  of  Lee. 

Nor  was  the  old  classmate  of  the  silent  commander 
the  only  witness  of  his  triumph  that  day,  to  whom  the 
scene  brought  back  memories  of  other  days.  Not  far 
from  the  flag-draped  stand  where  was  the  "Man  of 
Destiny"  with  the  President  and  his  cabinet,  and  within 
plain  sight  of  it,  sat  a  heavily  veiled  woman,  dressed  in 
gray.  She  seemed  to  be  so  absorbed  in  the  scene  that 
was  going  on  about  her  as  to  be  oblivious  of  the  pres- 
ence of  those  friends  whose  guest  she  was  on  this  occa- 
sion. Though  she  was  in  the  crowd  of  northern  enthusi- 
asts, she  was  not  of  them,  for  she  belonged  to  the  bleed- 
ing and  stricken  South.  Only  the  day  before  her  hus- 
band had  been  imprisoned,  together  with  the  President 
of  the  late  confederacy,  in  Fortress  Monroe,  and  she 
had  come  thither  to  solicit  the  influence  of  friends  to 
procure  his  release.  It  was  none  other  than  the  wife  of 
Carl  Grimke  Brett — one-time  Senator  in  the  Confeder- 
ate Congress  and  more  recently  a  brigadier-general  in 
the  southern  army — who  was  sitting  thus  at  the  grand 
review.  Drawn  thither  by  an  impulse  she  could  not 
resist,  she  had  accepted  an  invitation  from  friends 
which  gave  her  an  opportunity  to  see  again,  after  all 
these  years,  the  friend  of  her  girlhood  and  youth,  in 


THE  GRAND  REVIEW  285 

this  hour  of  his  supreme  triumph.  As  she  sat  there 
unseen  by  him,  and  watched  the  homage  that  was  paid 
by  all  to  him  whom  she  had  known  in  happier  days,  her 
mind  pondered  over  the  changes  that  time  had  wrought 
in  their  respective  fortunes.  The  charred  embers  of 
Vaucluse,  the  sweeping  away  of  her  husband's  fortune, 
and  her  own,  through  the  freeing  of  the  slaves  and  the 
ravages  of  war,  and  the  consciousness  that  at  this  very 
moment  when,  stricken  with  illness,  he  was  behind  prison 
bars,  all  told  her  that  she,  in  her  turn,  must  now  face 
poverty,  misfortune  and  the  bitterness  of  a  harsh  strug- 
gle for  existence.  On  the  other  hand,  he  whose  lot  had 
once  been  so  lowly  and  so  much  less  fortunate  than  her 
own,  was  now  at  the  pinnacle  of  human  fame.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  the  awkward,  friendless  lad  of  the  days 
at  Maysville,  could  be  one  and  the  same  with  the  martial 
figure  who,  sitting  at  the  right  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  was  now  reviewing  the  legions  under  his 
supreme  command.  Truly  it  was  one  of  the  strange 
vicissitudes  of  fate,  that  had  brought  her  here  at  such  a 
time  and  to  witness  such  a  scene. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL,  is  LOVE" 

IT  was  a  cold  night  in  December,  1865.  The 
city  of  Washington  lay  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  white. 
Outside  the  snow  was  still  falling  and  only  those 
were  abroad  that  stormy,  blustering  night  who  were 
called  out  by  errands  of  mercy  or  necessity. 

At  his  desk,  that  evening,  within  the  grim  walls  of  the 
War  Department,  sat  General  Burton,  working  away 
long  hours,  after  every  one  else  had  gone  for  the  night. 
The  duties  and  responsibilities  of  his  great  office  had 
made  it  necessary  for  him  of  late  to  work  until  mid- 
night in  order  that  the  labors  of  one  day  might  not  be 
carried  over  into  the  next.  Only  his  negro  servant  was 
with  him  and  he  stood  guard  in  the  outer  office  patiently 
waiting  until  his  master  should  be  ready  to  return  once 
more  to  an  apartment  in  a  distant  part  of  the  city. 
Within  the  room  where  the  silent  soldier  sat  the  grate 
fire  burned  brightly,  casting  its  cheerful  glow  around 
the  richly  furnished  office  wherein  the  commander  of  the 
American  army  gave  audience  to  those  whose  business 
was  of  sufficient  importance  to  demand  his  personal  at- 
tention. Somehow  that  night  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 

286 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"287 

keep  his  mind  on  the  routine  work  that  lay  spread  out 
before  him  on  his  desk,  and  when  the  clock  struck  nine, 
he  withdrew  from  his  desk  and  seated  himself  in  an 
easy  chair  before  the  fire.  There,  cigar  in  hand,  he  sat 
musing,  immersed  in  thoughts  which  did  not  relate  to 
the  machinery  of  a  government  which  rested  so  largely 
upon  his  shoulders.  It  was  difficult  to  realize,  as  one 
gazed  at  that  face  so  full  of  dignity  and  serenity  that 
it  was  the  visage  of  one  of  the  greatest  "sons  of  battle," 
the  master-mind  and  spirit  in  the  greatest  war  of 
modern  times. 

And  as  he  sat  in  thought  on  that  winter's  evening, 
there  was  a  noise  as  of  some  one  entering  the  outer  office 
and  in  a  moment  his  servant  entered  with  the  statement 
that  "two  gemmen  and  a  lady  was  jus'  outside,  and  the 
gemmen  had  sent  in  dese  yere  kyard,  wid  de  request 
that  dey  might  see  the  General  jus  foh  a  minute." 

He  handed  the  card  to  his  master,  and  then  waited  in 
respectful  attention  for  his  master's  instructions.  Gen- 
eral Burton  took  the  card  in  his  hand  and  read  thereon 
the  names  of  two  politicians  of  note  and  prominence  of 
that  day,  leaders  in  the  Democracy  of  postbellum  days. 
He  instructed  his  servant  to  bid  them  come  in. 

As  the  two  visitors  entered  his  room,  he  arose  and 
greeted  them  and  then  courteously  requested  them  to  be 
seated.  "We  will  only  detain  you  a  few  moments,"  said 
the  elder  of  them,  a  tall,  eagle-eyed  individual,  who  rep- 
resented the  state  of  Indiana  in  Congress  at  that  time. 
"We  are  here  in  the  service  of  a  lady,  sir,  whose  husband 
has  had  the  misfortune  to  be  confined,  by  order  of  the 
President,  in  Fort  Warren  at  Fortress  Monroe.  I  am 


288  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

informed,  sir,  that  the  prisoner  is  by  no  means  a 
stranger  to  you.  I  called  here  in  the  interest  of  Gen- 
eral Brett,  who  is  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  refer,  and  I 
am  undertaking  the  task  at  the  request  of  his  wife,  who 
is  now  in  the  reception-room  outside.  With  you  permis- 
sion, we  will  withdraw  and  ask  her  to  tell  her  own  story. 
She  has  come  here,  however,  at  our  suggestion,  not  her 
own.  We  feel  that  General  Brett's  imprisonment  in 
Fortress  Monroe  is  not  only — considering  his  serious 
physical  condition — a  cruel  piece  of  injustice,  but  we 
believe  it  to  have  been  wholly  unwarranted  in  law.  For 
the  General  was  included  in  the  terms  of  your  stipula- 
tion with  Lee  at  Appomattox,  and  his  arrest  is  in  direct 
violation  of  that  agreement.  Will  you  permit  Mrs. 
Brett  to  be  heard  in  behalf  of  her  husband?" 

Whatever  the  tumult  of  emotions  that  may  have  been 
secretly  passing  through  the  heart  of  the  one  thus  ad- 
dressed, neither  by  word  or  look  did  he  betray  them  to 
his  visitors.  In  so  far  as  anything  they  might  have 
observed  was  concerned,  the  ordeal  through  which  he 
was  now  passing,  might  just  as  well  have  been  the  most 
ordinary  piece  of  routine  business  imaginable.  He 
merely  said — in  perhaps  a  slightly  lower  tone  of  voice 
than  usual:  "I  am  at  the  lady's  service,  if  she  desires 
to  speak  to  me." 

The  visitors  retired  and  for  a  moment  he  found  him- 
self alone.  Now  the  cares  of  the  nation  and  the  respon- 
sibilities of  a  soldier  are  forgotten.  The  general  has 
disappeared,  and  in  his  place  stands  from  out  the 
shadows  of  the  past  the  lover  of  the  long  ago.  In  his 
dreams,  when  he  had  wished  that  he  might  see  her  once 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"289 

more,  he  had  contemplated  no  such  meeting  as  this. 
Even  the  partial  explanation  of  the  purpose  of  the  visit 
given  by  the  gentlemen  who  had  accompanied  her,  did 
not  serve  to  explain  fully  the  object  of  it  all.  Why  had 
she  appealed  to  him  instead  of  to  the  President?  He 
could  not  even  surmise,  except  that  he  knew  that  she 
must  have  encountered  some  unexpected  obstacle  which 
in  some  mysterious  way  he  was  to  be  asked  to  remove. 
The  emotions  of  his  youth  and  early  manhood,  which 
had  long  lain  dormant,  sprang  into  life  in  a  moment, 
and  the  man,  whose  imperturbability  amid  the  stress  of 
battle  had  excited  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the 
world,  now  found  himself  completely  unnerved  at  the 
thought  of  standing  in  the  presence  of  a  woman. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  looking  into  the  fireplace, 
with  his  back  to  the  door  by  which  she  would  enter.  He 
gazed  at  the  flames  flickering  here  and  there,  apparently 
absorbed  in  thought.  At  the  moment,  the  door  opened 
softly  and  almost  hesitatingly  there  entered  into  his 
presence  the  woman  between  whom  and  himself,  there 
stood  the  barrier  of  nearly  twenty  intervening  years  of 
silence  and  separation.  As  he  turned  and  looked  at  her 
the  floodgates  of  memory  were  unloosed  and  he  gazed 
searchingly  into  the  features  of  the  mature  woman  be- 
fore him,  from  whom  he  had  parted  so  long  ago.  Yes, 
it  was  the  woman  of  his  dreams,  who  now  stood  before 
him  in  the  flesh.  She  still  possessed  the  silken  brown 
hair,  the  clear  white  complexion — almost  pallid  now, 
it  is  true — and  the  eyes  as  beautiful  as  of  old.  Only  the 
figure  was  changed.  It  had  lost  some  of  its  girlish 
lines,  and  there  was  a  sadness  about  her  which  told,  as 


290  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

plainly  as  words,  of  suffering,  and  deprivation  and 
sorrow. 

And  this  night  was  to  be  the  climax  of  their  two  lives, 
both  her  heart  and  his  told  them  that.  The  meeting 
under  such  extraordinary  circumstances  was  to  open 
wide  the  story  of  the  life  each  had  led  since  they  parted 
nearly  two  decades  before.  His  life  had  had  but  one 
love  dream  and  he  wished  for  no  other.  The  face  that 
he  saw  that  night  was  of  a  woman  whose  present  and 
future  lay  solely  in  the  past.  Save  in  the  sadness  of 
her  expression,  and  in  the  maturity  of  her  face,  she 
had  changed  wonderfully  little  in  all  those  intervening 
years.  And  as  he  gazed  into  her  face  there  came  to  him 
a  vision  of  the  past. 

He  saw  again  a  young  girl,  fair  of  face,  smiling  be- 
neath her  head  of  soft  brown  hair,  dressed  in  white,  and 
blending  well  with  the  lights  and  shadows  about  her. 
He  inhales  once  more  the  scent  of  the  pine  and  the  odor 
of  violets  as  he  had  done  years  before,  as  they  stood  to- 
gether that  night  on  the  moonlit  bank  of  the  Hudson. 
And  as  he  looked  at  her  more  closely  he  observed  that 
she  wore  to-night,  as  she  did  then,  a  bunch  of  violets. 
Manlike,  he  wondered  if  it  were  mere  chance  that  this 
was  so. 

She  was  the  first  to  speak: 

"General  Burton,  you  better  than  any  one  else,  can 
understand  that  had  my  errand  been  other  than  one  of 
life  or  death,  I  would  not  have  intruded  myself  upon 
your  presence.  My  story  you  have  heard  in  part  from 
the  kind  friends  who  have  so  generously  aided  me,  and 
who  have  urged  me  to  come  to  you  here  to-night. 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"291 

"Last  spring,  my  husband — General  Brett — a  one- 
time member  of  the  Confederate  Congress,  but  at  the 
close  of  the  war  a  brigadier-general  in  the  southern 
army,  and  one  of  the  officers  paroled  by  you  at  Appo- 
rnattox,  was  imprisoned  by  order  of  President  Johnson 
in  Fort  Warren,  over  six  months  ago.  He  was  charged, 
with  Jefferson  Davis  and  others,  of  being  guilty  of 
treason  against  your  government.  He  had  not  violated 
his  parole  when  he  was  arrested  and  imprisoned,  and  he 
is  lying  at  this  moment  on  a  bed  of  sickness  brought  on 
by  his  confinement  in  prison.  I  left  his  side  only  three 
days  ago,  and  the  physician  of  the  prison  told  me  that 
if  he  were  not  immediately  released,  he  would  never  leave 
the  prison  alive.  Through  the  kindness  and  friendly 
aid  of  powerful  friends,  I  obtained  only  yesterday  an 
audience  with  President  Johnson  and  asked  him  for  my 
husband's  release.  At  first  he  refused.  Then,  at  my 
earnest  entreaty,  aided  by  the  generous  efforts  of  my 
friends — Republicans  of  great  influence  as  well  AS  Dem- 
ocrats of  eminence — I  obtained  the  coveted  order  direct- 
ing the  Secretary  of  War  to  discharge  my  husband 
from  custody.  Accompanied  by  friends,  I  only  this 
morning  presented  myself  before  Secretary  Stanton 
and  handed  him  the  order  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  directing  the  authorities  at  Fort  Warren  to 
release  General  Brett  from  custody.  And,  General, 
Secretary  Stanton  tore  that  order  of  President  John- 
son's into  pieces  in  my  face  and  would  have  turned  on 
his  heel  and  left  me  standing  there  alone,  had  not  my 
friends  interposed  with  the  request  that  he  hear  from 
my  own  lips  the  story  which  led  up  to  the  giving  of 


292  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

that  order  by  your  President.  I  told  him  my  story,  and 
he  heard  me  through  without  interruption,  but  when  I 
had  finished,  he  said,  with  a  pitilessly  brutal  look  on  his 
face,  'Mrs.  Brett,  in  this  department  I  am  supreme.  I 
shall  not  obey  the  President's  order,  calling  for  the  re- 
lease of  your  husband.  This,  madam,  is  final.'  He 
then  turned  his  back  on  me  and  without  another  word 
I  walked  out  of  his  presence. 

"I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  hope,  which  up  to 
that  moment  had  burned  so  high  in  my  breast,  was  dead. 
It  seemed  indeed  as  if  God  himself  had  forsaken  me  in 
my  hour  of  trouble.  I  did  not  know  where  to  turn  next. 
My  very  soul  seemed  crushed  to  death.  Just  then — 
when  the  way  seemed  so  dark,  and  I  felt  I  must  prepare 
for  what  would  soon  come,  one  of  my  friends — himself 
a  member  of  your  Congress — said  to  me,  after  we  had 
walked  out  of  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  War :  'Mrs. 
Brett,  there  is  one  man  in  this  world,  and  only  one, 
whose  order  will  be  obeyed,  even  by  Edwin  Stanton, 
Secretary  of  War  to  a  President  whose  orders  he — a 
sworn  officer  of  the  government — refuses  to  obey.  We 
will  now  appeal  to  Caesar.' 

"Wondering  and  wholly  in  the  dark  as  to  what  my 
companion  could  mean,  I  asked  him  to  explain.  This  he 
promised  to  do  later.  When  we  were  by  ourselves,  he 
offered  an  explanation  of  his  remarks  in  these  words: 
'Mrs.  Brett,  if  you  can  induce  General  Burton  to  issue 
the  same  order  that  you  obtained  from  the  President,  I 
give  you  my  word  that  it  will  be  obeyed  even  by  Mr. 
Stanton,  for  the  General  is  to-day,  in  truth  if  not  in 
name,  the  real  ruler  of  this  nation.  His  hold  upon  the 


"  IHL  APPLAL  TO  CALSAR"  <Pa$e  292) 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"293 

people  is  supreme.  He  is  their  idol  and  no  man  dares 
offer  him  such  an  affront  as  Secretary  Stanton  has  just 
offered  the  President  of  the  United  States.  Edwin 
Stanton — even  though  he  dare  tear  the  order  of  the 
President  into  pieces  in  your  face — dare  not  say  no  to 
the  "Man  of  Appomattox'V 

"When  my  friend  offered  this  suggestion,  General,  he 
did  not  know,  nor  does  he  now  know  that  you  and  I  had 
ever  met  before.  Nothing  but  the  extremity  of  my  need 
could  have  forced  me  to  come  to  you,  asking  such  a 
priceless  favor  from  your  hands.  I  know  full  well  I 
have  no  right  to  ask  it.  But  in  doing  so,  I  ask  you  to 
forget  the  past  and  look  on  me  merely  as  a  woman  who 
is  in  deep  trouble.  As  one,  who  in  her  weakness,  has 
come  to  you  in  your  strength.  Things  have  changed 
greatly  since  those  early  days  when  we  knew  each  other 
in  our  youth.  To-day  it  is  mine  to  ask  and  yours  to 
give,  if  you  will." 

She  paused  now  and  waited  for  him  to  speak.  "My 
friend,  you  cannot  know  what  you  ask.  Let  me  tell  you 
a  story  of  two  lives,  part  of  which  is  known  to  you,  but 
in  which  there  is  much  that  you  have  not  heard. 

"Years  ago  there  came  to  a  village  in  Kentucky  a 
young  girl  who  was  gentle,  kind  and  good.  Her  lot  in 
life  was  cast  among  a  proud  race,  rich  in  this  world's 
goods  and  bearing  one  of  the  proudest  names  known  to 
the  Old  Dominion.  By  the  merest  chance  as  it  were, 
there  touched  the  broad  circle  of  her  life  the  narrow  one 
that  belonged  to  a  poor  country  boy  from  a  frontier 
western  farm.  This  lad  found  himself  all  but  friendless 
and  at  times  homesick  and  forlorn  even  among  the  rela- 


294  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

tives  with  whom  he  lived.  Slow  to  make  friends,  his  lot 
among  strangers,  was  one  not  to  be  envied. 

"Out  of  the  kindness  of  a  generous  heart,  this  girl 
chose  to  befriend  this  awkward,  friendless  lad,  whose 
lot  in  life  was  so  different  from  her  own  fuller  and  hap- 
pier one.  The  lad  had  been  born  among  the  poor,  and 
he  knew  not  the  meaning  of  luxuries.  Indeed  he  bade 
fair  to  die  without  experiencing  any  of  those  advan- 
tages that  mean  so  much  to  those  who  appreciate  and 
know  how  to  use  them.  Unknown  to  the  girl,  she  awak- 
ened in  his  bosom  the  first  spark  of  ambition  that  had 
ever  found  lodgment  there.  Through  her  unconscious 
instrumentality  there  arose  within  him  the  wish  to  be 
something  better,  stronger  and  greater  than  that  which 
his  own  circumscribed  environment  was  likely  to  pro- 
duce. She  opened  to  him  the  gates  of  opportunity  just 
wide  enough  for  him  to  walk  through  its 'threshold  into 
a  higher  and  broader  life.  In  some  mysterious  way,  in 
helping  this  friendless  lad  she  had  won  not  only  his  con- 
fidence but  his  love,  as  well. 

"When  he  entered  upon  his  fuller  life  at  the  great 
military  academy  provided  by  a  kind  and  beneficent 
government  he  met  there  one  whose  life  was  destined  to 
cross  and  recross  his  own  during  the  long  years  to 
come.  The  two  were  classmates  and  circumstances  made 
them  rivals  when  otherwise  they  might  have  been 
friends.  The  one  was  gifted,  handsome  and  brilliant. 
All  the  cadets  looked  up  to  him  as  one  whom  nature  had 
destined  to  be  a  leader  of  men.  The  other  lad,  to  all 
appearances,  possessed  none  of  those  qualities.  They 
had  not  been  long  together  as  schoolmates  before  they 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"295 

discovered  that  they  both  loved  the  girl  of  whom  I  have 
spoken.  Then  commenced  a  struggle  to  win  her  favor. 
In  their  studies  and  in  their  appointments  as  cadet  offi- 
cers the  older  of  the  two,  the  Southerner,  outstripped 
his  rival  in  every  way. 

"But  soon  came  Commencement  week,  and  with  it  a 
great  riding  contest  when  the  Northern  lad  was  vic- 
torious over  his  rival  in  a  contest  at  which  the  girl  her- 
self was  present.  Then  it  was  for  the  first  time  that  to 
the  winner  in  this  contest  came  the  thought  that  he 
might  some  time  aspire  to  the  hand  of  the  girl  whom 
both  even  then  had  learned  to  love.  Later  he  visited  her 
in  this  very  city  where  we  are  to-night  and  there  spent 
what  were,  in  many  ways  the  happiest  days  of  his  life. 
In  after  years,  they  with  the  later  ones  spent  with  her  at 
Kentucky  were  destined  to  seem  like  a  dream — too 
happy  to  have  been  a  reality. 

"Then  came  the  Mexican  War,  in  which  both  of  the 
young  soldiers,  Southerner  and  Northerner  alike,  par- 
ticipated. Here  again  the  former  came  out  of  it  with 
perhaps  greater  honor  and  a  higher  promotion  than  his 
rival.  They  then  returned  home  to  ask  in  marriage  the 
hand  of  the  girl  they  both  loved.  This  time  it  was  the 
man  from  the  North  who  won  success,  and  secured  from 
the  woman  of  his  choice  the  promise  that  some  day  she 
would  become  his  wife. 

"At  this  time,  by  one  of  the  strange  dispensations  of 
Providence,  both  he  and  his  rival  were  ordered  to  duty 
on  a  frontier  post  on  the  Pacific  coast.  Here  the 
Northern  officer  served  in  the  same  regiment  with  his 
less  fortunate  rival  for  more  than  a  year.  To  both  the 


296  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

life  in  that  far  distant  garrison  was  irksome  and  dis- 
agreeable, but  to  none  more  so  than  to  the  Northerner. 
It  was  to  him  a  land  of  fog  and  mist,  a  dreary  prison 
cell,  from  which  he  longed  to  escape.  To  the  Southerner 
fond  of  social  life,  and  relaxation,  the  onerous  duties  of 
his  post  were  easier  because  of  the  presence  there  of 
these  diversions.  Not  so  with  the  other,  who  cared  little 
for  all  this." 

At  this  point  the  speaker  paused  a  moment  in  his 
long  narrative  and  his  voice  assumed  a  lower  key  as  he 
proceeded : 

"So  far,  all  that  I  have  related  has  doubtless  served 
merely  to  bring  back  to  your  mind  events  with  which 
you  are  perfectly  familiar.  My  justification  for  so 
doing  is  yet  to  be  told.  For  what  I  have  already  related, 
is  but  a  light  prelude  to  the  more  somber  story  which  I 
am  about  to  tell.  Like  most  of  his  fellows,  the  Northern 
officer  of  whom  I  speak,  had  his  weaknesses,  and  among 
these  was  a  not  inordinate  love  of  strong  drink.  Added 
to  this,  was  a  somewhat  extraordinary  inability  to  in- 
dulge this  appetite  even  to  the  smallest  extent,  without 
coming  more  or  less  under  its  influence.  According  to 
the  infallible  belief  of  others,  he  should  have  left  the  cup 
entirely  alone,  but  it  suffices  to  say  that  in  this  one 
instance,  at  least,  he  failed  to  live  up  to  the  high  stand- 
ards prescribed  by  those  who  were  ever  willing  to  sit  in 
judgment  upon  the  failings  of  their  felloe  men.  The 
story  of  this  man's  fall,  is  neither  pleasant  to  tell  or 
hear.  So  I  will  pass  it  over  as  briefly  as  possible.  He 
drank  on  one  occasion  a  very  little  extraordinarily 
strong  liquor,  which  he  now  knows  was  bought  and  of- 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"297 

fered  to  him  for  the  express  purpose  of  making  him 
intoxicated.  It  had  the  desired  effect.  Those  present 
who  should  have  befriended  him  at  the  time,  took  the 
utmost  care  to  see  that  nothing  should  prevent  his 
going  to  his  post  while  in  a  condition  which  precluded 
the  possibility  of  his  properly  performing  his  duties  as 
a  company  officer.  It  was  all  timed  perfectly  to  accom- 
plish this  result.  The  officer  of  the  day,  a  Captain. 
Cass,  who  under  ordinary  circumstances,  would  have 
found  abundant  excuse  for  not  reporting  the  circum- 
stance to  headquarters,  was  bribed  beforehand,  to  prom- 
ise to  report  the  offense  to  the  colonel  in  command  of  the 
post.  Unlike  most  of  his  promises,  this  was  kept. 
'Drunk  while  in  the  performance  of  his  duty  as  an  officer 
of  the  United  States  army,'  was  the  charge  preferred 
against  him. 

"Here  again  the  masterhand  of  the  one  who  had  con- 
ceived this  skilfully  executed  plot,  to  ruin  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  but  more  particularly  in  that  of  his  betrothed 
wife,  the  reputation  of  the  one  against  whom  it  was 
directed,  was  revealed.  The  commandant  of  the  post 
was  the  most  notorious  and  vindictive  martinet  in  the 
entire  army.  Instead  of  visiting  upon  the  officer  a 
light  punishment,  as  he  might  have  done,  he  gave  him 
the  alternative  of  being  publicly  disgraced,  through 
the  medium  of  a  court-martial,  or  of  resigning  from  the 
army.  In  the  face  of  such  a  situation  there  was  only 
one  thing  for  the  officer  to  do,  and  he  did  it.  He  of 
course  handed  in  his  resignation,  to  take  effect  a  few 
months  later.  The  resignation  was  accepted,  and  the 
Northerner  left  the  post,  an  ex-officer  of  the  army. 


298  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

"Then  came  the  long  tedious  journey  east,  where  he 
was  to  take  up  with  a  heavy  heart  the  burden  of  a  new 
and  untried  career.  He  took  a  steamer  going  to  San 
Francisco,  from  which  port  he  hoped  to  embark  for  the 
East.  The  ex-officer,  without  means  and  even  without 
clothes  to  go  among  men  of  his  own  station,  was  com- 
pelled, on  his  arrival  in  San  Francisco,  to  put  up  at  a 
sailors'  boarding-house,  frequented  only  by  the  rough- 
est and  poorest  characters.  What  his  thoughts  and 
sufferings  were  in  the  attic  room  which  was  given  him 
in  that  cheerless  hostelry  none  but  he  can  ever  know. 
Perhaps  you  can  guess  in  part  at  least  what  his 
thoughts  were?  He  sat  down  in  a  carpetless  room, 
and  tried  to  face  the  future.  It  was,  indeed,  dark. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  light,  no  hope.  His  means  of 
livelihood,  his  profession,  his  good  name  even,  seemed 
to  have  been  lost.  He  was  a  failure,  in  the  world's  eyes, 
from  thenceforth  a  mere  bit  of  human  driftwood  to  be 
buffeted  hither  and  thither  on  the  great  sea  of  life  until 
Wearied  of  the  struggle,  he  would  let  go  and  sink  be- 
neath the  surface,  to  fight  and  struggle  no  more. 

"But  even  these  things — precious  as  they  were  to  him 
— were  as  nothing  compared  to  the  loss  of  the  woman 
that  he  loved,  which  came  as  a  result  of  the  unfortunate 
affair.  At  the  time  when  he  needed  her  most  she  turned 
from  him.  as  if  she,  too,  was  willing  to  share  the  ver- 
dict, which  the  world  had  passed  upon  him — disgrace 
and  failure. 

"But  I  will  not  weary  you  longer  with  the  story. 
Perhaps  as  you  know  the  other  characters  of  this  story 
so  well  you  may  care  to  know  the  name  of  the  man  who 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"  299 

so  cleverly  wrought  the  downfall  of  the  officer  whose 
life-story  you  have  listened  to  so  patiently.  Shall  I 
tell  it  to  you?" 

She  nodded  a  mute  assent. 

"It  was  the  man  for  whose  unworthy  sake  you  have 
called  upon  me  to-night.  It  was  in  truth  the  prisoner 
of  Fort  Warren.  How  do  I  know  it  is  so  ?  It  was  told 
me  in  the  jungles  of  Panama  by  the  man  whom  General 
Brett  used  as  a  tool,  to  carry  out  his  deliberate  purpose 
of  ruining  me,  that  he  might  thereby  win  you.  By  one 
of  those  mysterious  chances,  that  sometimes  happen  in. 
this  world  of  ours,  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  nurse  and  care  for 
this  same  Captain  Cass,  while  in  his  last  illness  on  the 
Isthmus.  On  his  death-bed,  when  stricken  with  the 
cholera  and  about  to  face  the  Great  Judge  of  all,  he 
told  me  in  part  the  story  to  which  you  have  listened  to- 
night. There  is  not  in  my  mind  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
as  to  its  truth.  Do  you  still  ask  me  to  intercede  in  Genr 
eral  Brett's  behalf?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  his  question.  The  scene,  with 
its  attendant  revelations,  had  been  too  much  for  the 
woman  before  him.  His  visitor  was  sobbing  bitterly. 
With  the  loss  of  self-control,  her  emotions  had  now  ob- 
tained full  sway  over  her.  As  he  gazed  at  the  figure  of 
the  woman  who  had  once  been  so  much  to  him,  now  all 
but  broken  in  spirit  and  body  before  him,  his  voice  be- 
came strangely  soft  and  tender. 

"My  friend,  it  grieves  me  sorely  to  see  you  suffer  so. 
I  never  dreamed  of  telling  you  of  all  this,  had  not  your 
errand  here  to-night  forced  it  from  me.  But  I  could 
not  refuse  the  only  request  you  have  ever  made  of  me  in 


600  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

all  these  years  without  telling  you  now  my  reasons  for 
so  doing." 

She  had  stopped  her  sobbing  now,  and  looked  up  at 
liira  with  a  wonder-questioning  look  in  her  face. 

"Why  did  you  not  either  write  or  tell  me  this — until 
it  was  too  late?" 

"Do  you  need  to  ask  me  that  question?  Had  I  done 
so,  my  motive  would  have  been  misunderstood,  and  it 
would  only  have  resulted  in  more  unhappiness  for  you. 
Neither  would  it  have  restored  to  me  my  own.  Your 
last  letter  had  told  me  in  terms  not  intended  to  be  mis- 
understood that  you  were  never  to  be  mine.  Your  rea- 
sons were  such  that  never,  in  this  world,  could  tilings 
be  made  right  again  between  us.  Only  in  God's  good 
time  would  you  be  made  to  see  and  understand." 

"General,  I  came  here  on  an  errand  of  life  and  death, 
and  I  must  carry  it  through  to  the  end.  I  ask  you  to 
think  of  the  man  who  is  dying  by  inches  within  the  dark, 
damp  walls  of  Fort  Warren.  As  certainly  as  we  stand 
here  to-night  he  will  surely  die,  unless  he  is  released 
from  there  at  once.  Whatever  injury  he  may  have  done 
you  in  times  past,  I  ask  you  to  forget  and  forgive,  and 
in  the  name  of  common  humanity,  procure  his  release 
from  that  place.  You  can  do  it.  They  have  told  me 
that  you  can.  Tell  me  that  you  will." 

Her  voice  rang  out  clear  and  supplicating  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  and  her  eyes  burned  with  a  brilliancy 
that  was  unearthly. 

But  he  saw  them  not.  He  arose  from  the  chair 
wherein  he  had  been  seated  during  the  interview  and  ap- 
proached her  own. 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"S01 

"Who  has  the  right  to  appeal  to  me  in  behalf  of  Carl 
Brett  in  the  name  of  common  humanity?  With  such 
creatures  as  he  there  is  only  one  fit  law  to  apply,  and 
that  is  the  old  Hebrew  one,  'An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth.'  It  was  his  'humanity'  which  drove 
me  from  a  livelihood  and  an  honorable  profession  to  the 
garret  of  that  desolate  sailors'  boarding-house  in  San 
Francisco,  where  I  read  the  letter  which  told  me  that 
your  way  and  mine  lay  forever  apart.  If  I  could  but 
portray  to  you  but  a  small  part  of  what  I  endured  and 
suffered  in  that  spot  you  would  not  appeal  to  me  in  the 
'name  of  humanity.'  Within  the  bare  walls  of  that 
cheerless  abode,  I  suffered  the  tortures  of  the  damned. 
I  saw  that  night  crumbling  around  about  me  the  hopes 
and  aspirations  of  a  lifetime.  The  honors  of  youth,  the 
joyful  anticipations  of  days  to  come;  the  anticipated 
realization  of  our  life  together  were  transformed  in  a 
moment  to  ashes.  The  cold  dark  waters  of  the  'Bay' 
upon  which  I  looked  from  my  darkened  windows  that 
night  knew  more  of  'humanity'  than  Carl  Brett  ever 
dreamed.  For  they  would  have  given  oblivion.  It 
was  his  act  which  made  me  a  human  derelict  for  seven 
long  years.  To  him  I  owe  it,  that  I  was  compelled  to 
sell  cord-wood  in  the  public  market  in  St.  Louis,  that  I 
might  have  bread  to  eat  and  clothes  to  wear.  Do  you 
think  the  vision  is  not  seared  into  my  very  soul  of  his 
leading  you  forth,  his  bride,  from  your  father's  home  in 
Washington,  while  I  stood  outside  in  the  bitter  cold  and 
night  and  watched  him  carry  away  as  his  own,  that 
which  was  dearer  to  me  than  life  itself?  And  now,  can 
you  still  ask  me  in  the  name  of  'common  humanity'  to 


THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

save  the  life  of  him  who  ruthlessly  took  all  the  joy  and 
beauty  out  of  mine?" 

A  moment's  silence,  and  then  came  these  words  in 
reply  to  his : 

"Friend  of  my  girlhood,  for  to-night  I  am  going  to 
bare  my  woman's  heart  before  you  and  lift  the  veil  that 
had  hidden  me  from  your  sight  all  these  years.  One 
afternoon  in  the  long  ago,  upon  the  summit  of  a  great 
rock  overlooking  the  Ohio  Valley,  on  the  very  spot 
where  I  had  talked  with  him  as  a  friendless  country  lad 
ten  years  before,  a  bronzed  veteran  just  from  the  battle- 
fields of  a  foreign  war  offered  me  his  love.  The  music 
of  that  sweet  day  still  lingers  in  my  ears,  what  he 
offered — I  oh,  so  gladly — gave  in  return.  We  parted, 
expecting  soon  to  meet  again,  and  take  up 
the  journey  of  life  together.  Instead  of  that,  we  had 
parted  destined  to  take  up  a  life  forever  apart.  Only 
one  who  has  suffered  the  pangs  of  heart-hunger  and 
disappointment  in  things  that  are  closer  to  a  woman's 
heart  than  life  itself,  can  know  what  it  means  to  have 
lost  such  a  love  as  had  once  been  so  wholly  mine. 
Scarcely  a  night  has  passed  since  that  time,  when  there 
has  not  come  to  me  out  of  the  darkness  the  voice 
of  that  love,  which  though  lost,  was  heaven-born.  It 
has  been  no  more  possible  for  me  to  blot  all  this  out  of 
my  inner  life  and  heart  than  it  would  be  for  you  to  for- 
get your  Appomattox.  Unknown  to  you,  I  sat,  a  spec- 
tator, on  that  first  day  of  the  grand  review  at  Washing- 
ton and  watched  'my  soldier  boy'  as,  transformed  into 
the  great  military  leader,  he  received  the  plaudits  of  a 
world  which  had  once  passed  him  by  in  silence  and  con- 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"303 

tempt.  I  was  proud  of  him  that  day,  even  though  I 
had  no  part  or  share  in  it  all.  I  shall  always  be  an 
outsider  now,  destined  only  to  stand  outside  and  catch 
glimpses  of  happiness,  as  now  and  then  the  curtains 
are  raised,  that  I  may,  even  so  dimly,  see  the  joy  and 
happiness  inside.  And  now  that  I  have  reserved  noth- 
ing, when  all  has  been  said  that  you  have  listened  to 
to-night,  I  ask  in  the  name  of  the  love  that  you  once 
bore  me,  to  sign  the  order  which  shall  free,  not  Carl 
Brett,  but  my  husband  from  a  prison  cell." 

Unconsciously  the  man  dropped  back  for  a  moment 
into  the  past. 

"Sallie,  you  can  scarcely  know  what  you  ask.  Do 
you  realize  that  my  signing  this  order  may  raise  an 
issue  between  Stanton  and  myself,  which  may  even  force 
me  to  tender  my  resignation  ?  Is  it  likely  that  he  will  do 
for  me  what  he  refuses  to  do  for  the  President  of  the 
United  States?" 

"My  friend,  my  faith  in  you  never  faltered,  but  once, 
and  please  God  it  shall  never  fail  me  again.  I  believe 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul  that  you  will  sign  this  order, 
because  you  are  great  and  noble,  and  good  and  true. 
Just  as  truly  do  I  believe  that  Secretary  Stanton  will 
obey  your  order  in  this  instance,  not  so  much  because 
you  are  the  idol  of  the  American  people,  and  he  dare 
not  offend  you,  but  because  he,  like  yourself,  can  surely 
be  depended  upon  to  do  what  is  just  and  right." 

There  was  a  pause  and  then  the  man  spoke  again : 

"At  such  a  time  as  this  there  can  be  no  concealment, 
for  there  is  too  much  searching  of  hearts  here  to-night 
for  that.  Sallie,  during  all  these  long  years,  I  have 


304  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

been  faithful  to  the  love  that  was  yours  once  and  is 
yours  now.  Have  you  been  equally  faithful  to  yours  ? 

And  now  he  had  finished  speaking,  and  waited  expect- 
antly for  her  response.  And  then  the  woman,  whose 
eyes  had  been  lowered  as  he  uttered  these  last  words, 
raised  them  until  they  looked  full  into  his,  and  then 
rising  from  her  seat,  spoke  again : 

"I  shall  speak  to-night  as  a  woman  and  not  as  a  wife. 
Now  that  you  have  opened  once  more  your  heart,  let 
me  open  my  own  in  return.  When  I  came  here  I  little 
dreamed  that  I  should  speak  these  words  to  which  I  now 
give  utterance,  but  they  are  wrung  from  me  by  the 
story  of  this  great  love  that  has  been  kept  safe  for  me 
alone,  all  these  years.  I  speak  now,  strong  in  the  belief 
that  in  so  doing,  I  can  do  no  harm,  only  good. 

"Have  you  ever  guessed  or  felt  what  you  have  been 
to  me  all  these  years  by  your  tenderness,  your  patience 
and  your  nobility?  All  speak  to  me  with  indescribable 
power.  As  I  have  traced  to-night  the  lines  of  sorrow  on 
your  brow,  as  I  have  come  to  a  full  realization  of  the 
loneliness  of  your  life,  of  the  devotion  to  duty,  of  your 
unswerving  loyalty  to  an  ideal,  so  different  from  my 
own,  I  can  no  longer  remain  silent.  Think  me  un- 
womanly if  you  will,  but  you  shall  know  the  truth. 

"When  I  married  Carl  Brett  I  knew  that  I  did  not 
love  him  as  a  woman  should  the  man  to  whom  she  would 
entrust  her  all,  but  I  thought  that  love  would  come  as 
the  years  went  by.  Family,  friends,  and  a  foolish  girl- 
ish ambition  all  favored  the  course  I  took,  and  so  I 
married  him,  thinking  that  time  would  make  it  right. 
The  past  is  my  best  friend  as  the  future  is  yours.  You 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"305 

belong  to  the  nation,  I  to  one  who  is  bound  to  me  only 
by  his  present  weakness  and  helplessness." 

The  experiences  of  this  night  were  too  deep  for 
further  utterance.  She  ceased  speaking,  and  turned  as 
if  to  go  out.  As  she  moved  toward  the  door,  he  left  the 
fireplace  before  which  he  had  been  standing  and  came 
forward  and  took  her  hands.  For  a  moment  they  stood 
looking  in  each  other's  eyes.  Neither  spoke.  Then  the 
man  saw  in  hers  the  love-light,  and  he  knew  that  the  love 
that  had  been  given  him  long  years  before  was  still  his. 
She  loved  him  still  and  had  loved  him  all  these  years. 
Truly  the  heart  of  a  woman  is  a  mystery,  too  deep  for 
man  to  solve. 

When  he  essayed  to  speak,  the  lips  of  the  woman 
trembled  and  she  raised  her  hand  as  if  to  stop  him. 
Momentarily  she  pressed  her  hand  to  her  throat,  as  if 
for  breath.  For  an  instant  it  appeared  as  if  her  emo- 
tion would  overcome  her.  Then  with  a  quick  movement 
she  recovered  her  self-possession  and  spoke: 

"The  story  which  you  have  told  me  to-night  is  in  some 
ways  the  saddest  which  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  hear. 
Many  things  which  have  been  dark  to  me  for  many 
years  are  now  made  clear.  The  light  has  broken 
through  at  last  and  I  no  longer  see  things  darkly.  I 
have  listened  to-night  to  one  of  those  life  tragedies 
whose  very  utterance  has  brought  me  pain.  The  vic- 
tory has  been  yours,  the  defeat  mine.  The  same  tide 
that  commenced  to  flow  so  long  ago  and  swept  you  out 
upon  an  unknown  sea  has  brought  you  back  to  safety. 
And  why?  Because  you  were  strong  enough  to  stem  it, 
when  it  would  have  carried  you  out  upon  it  as  a  derelict 


006  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

in  its  treacherous  arms.  There — had  you  been  less 
strong — you  would  have  remained,  buffeted  by  every 
wind  that  blows,  merely  drifting  while  others  passed 
you  on  the  way  to  fame  and  fortune. 

"And  what  can  I  say  to  you,  dear  friend,  about  him 
who  has  brought  so  much  that  was  evil  upon  you?  If 
he  was  pitiless,  for  that  reason  you  will  show  mercy?  for 
the  'merciful  are  the  children  of  light.'  Tell  me,  friend 
of  my  heart,  that  you  will  grant  my  prayer  ?" 

It  was  a  study  indeed  to  see  the  man's  face  at 
that  moment.  There  was  evidently  a  struggle  going  on 
between  the  baser  and  higher  emotions  that  struggled 
for  the  mastery  at  times  in  his  breast.  At  length  that 
which  was  noble  and  good  and  true  in  the  great  chief- 
tain conquered,  and  he  said  to  the  still  beautiful  woman 
before  him : 

"Yes,  Sallie,  your  request  shall  be  granted,  in  so  far 
as  it  lies  with  me  to  grant  it." 

Then,  stepping  to  the  desk,  he  wrote  for  several  mo- 
ments and  then  handed  to  her  the  historic  letter  directed 
to  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  calling  for  the  liberation  of  Gen- 
eral Carl  Brett  from  imprisonment  at  Fort  Warren, 
which  read  as  follows: 

"Brigadier-General  Carl  Grimke  Brett  is  included  in 
the  terms  of  General  Lee's  surrender  at  Appomattox 
Court  House.  He  will  be  released  upon  giving  the 
proper  bond,  and  I  will  see  that  this  order  is  carried 
into  effect.  Let  him  be  discharged." 

Then  adding  to  it  his  familiar  signature,  lie  gave  it 


"AND  THE  GREATEST  OF  ALL  IS  LOVE"  307 

to  the  woman  before  him,  who  received  it  with  trembling 
hands.  She  essayed  to  speak,  but  failed.  She  dared 
not  trust  herself  to  attempt  to  utter  all  that  was  in  her 
heart.  She  held  out  both  her  hands  to  hkn,  and  he 
held  them  for  a  moment  in  his  own.  Then  without  a 
word,  other  than  a  whispered  good-by,  she  vanished 
forever  from  his  sight.  The  next  day  the  order  was 
delivered  to  Secretary  Stanton,  and  this  time  it  was 
unhesitatingly,  if  not  gracefully  and  willingly  obeyed. 
One  day  later  Carl  Brett  was  a  free  man  through  the 
gracious  clemency  of  his  former  West  Point  classmate, 
General  Burton,  now  commander  of  the  National  Army. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

FINIS 

ONE  afternoon  in  the  late  summer  of  1866,  a  man  still 
in  the  vigor  of  .middle  life,  drove  a  handsome  Kentucky 
thoroughbred  along  a  traveled  Ohio  roadway,  which 
leads  inland  from  the  river  which  bears  that  name.  To 
the  few  farmers  who  gazed  at  him  as  he  passed  them 
rapidly  by,  there  was  something  about  him  which  seemed 
strangely  familiar  and  yet,  as  they  expressed  it,  "he 
must  be  a  stranger  in  these  parts."  Unaccompanied,  he 
drove  rapidly  on,  until  he  came  to  a  farmhouse  much 
run  down,  but  evidently  occupied  by  some  tenant  who 
had  drifted  thither  in  recent  years.  Hitching  his  horke 
he  stopped  for  a  moment  to  gaze  long  and  earnestly  at 
the  old  farmhouse  and  then  stepped  to  the  half -open 
side  door  and  knocked.  A  woman,  dressed  in  a  neat  blue 
calico  gown,  came  to  the  door  and  inquired  his  errand. 
Briefly  he  stated  to  her  the  fact  that  this  place  had  been 
his  boyhood  home,  and  that  he  wished,  with  her  per- 
mission, to  revisit  some  of  the  spots  that  had  endeared 
themselves  to  him  in  his  early  years. 

Regarding  him  with  ill-concealed  curiosity,  she  gave 
the  desired  permission,  of  which  he  was  not  slow  to  avail 
himself.  Leaping  easily  over  a  rail  fence  which  barred 

308 


FINIS  309 

his  progress,  he  proceeded  to  climb  once  more  the  steep 
slope  of  Girdle  Tree  Hill.  The  summit  of  the  hill  once 
attained,  he  gazed  around,  with  feelings  of  almost  boy- 
ish pleasure!  "The  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills"  were 
there,  solemnly  chewing  their  cud,  on  the  slope  of  the 
wide-spreading  buckeyes.  In  the  distance  could  be 
heard  the  tinkle  of  bells.  Fields  of  wheat  and  corn 
waved  in  the  breeze,  green  meadows  sloped  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  one  and  all  suggestive  of  the  life  that 
had  been  his  in  the  long  ago.  As  the  shades  of  evening 
commenced  to  steal  upon  him,  he  fell  into  one  of  those 
dreamy,  pensive  moods,  which  come  to  one  only  once  in 
long  intervals  of  years.  As  he  gazed  with  moistened 
eyes  upon  the  familiar  scene,  which  he  had  revisited 
after  an  absence  of  many  years,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
his  youth  and  manhood,  like  dual  personalities,  had  sud- 
denly come  face  to  face  with  each  other  once  more,  after 
a  long  separation.  The  dreams  of  his  boyhood  had 
vanished;  the  disillusionment  of  the  "forties"  had 
taken  their  place.  It  is  only  a  brave  man  who  can  look 
his  past  in  the  face  without  flinching.  If  he  have  not 
cause  to  blush  with  shame  at  some  unworthy  deed,  there 
is  almost  sure  to  be  cause  for  a  sigh  of  regret  at  the 
thought  of  lost  opportunity  or  wasted  endeavor.  But 
to  the  man  who  stood,  that  late  summer  evening,  on 
Girdle  Tree  Hill,  there  was  neither  emotion.  His 
thoughts  at  this  vesper  hour  were  on  other  things. 
This  visit  to  the  scene  of  his  boyhood  years  had  brought 
with  it  a  train  of  thoughts  which  held  him  for  a  moment 
not  only  captive,  but  spell-bound,  as  it  were.  The  won- 
der of  it  all,  which  had  long  since  burst  upon  others, 


310  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

now  for  the  first  time  was  revealed  to  him.  Out  of  the 
deep  purple  twilight  of  an  August  day  there  came  vis- 
ions of  the  past,  which  he  alone  of  all  the  millions  in  the 
land,  could  call  his  own.  What  others  only  dared  dream 
of,  he  had  lived.  What  to  all  save  him  alone  was  a  tale 
out  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  was  to  him  but  a  page  out 
of  his  own  life  history.  Could  it  all  be  true?  Was  the 
barefooted  urchin  of  Girdle  Tree  Hill  out  of  the  same 
mold  as  the  victor  at  Donelson?  Was  the  youth  who 
ploughed,  only  three  decades  ago,  yonder  field  of  corn, 
the  forerunner  of  the  matchless  strategist  at  Vicks- 
burg?  Was  the  stolid  schoolboy  at  Maysville  the  orig- 
inator of  that  brilliantly  conceived  and  perfectly 
executed  battle  at  Chattanooga?  Could  the  quiet  and 
sensitive  cadet  at  Wist  Point  be  the  prophecy  of  that 
grim  and  wonderful  warrior  of  the  Wilderness?  Is  that 
friendless  and  pathetic  figure  of  the  What  Cheer  House 
in  San  Francisco,  one  and  the  same  with  that  one, 
around  whose  presence  now  clustered  the  wondrous  halo 
of  Appomattox?  Yes,  even  so.  That  solitary  figure 
standing  there  in  the  twilight  represented  in  his  own 
person  all  these  apparently  diverse  but  really  identical 
personalities.  Surely  the  forces  which  had  wrought 
together  to  produce  this  "Man  of  Destiny"  could  only 
have  been  found  within  the  borders  of  the  one  great 
Republic.  There  alone  such  material  on  which  these 
forces  might  work  could  be  found.  And  only  in  an  un- 
shackled democracy,  could  such  a,  career  have  been  made 
possible.  Conceived  under  the  protection  of  an  all-wise 
Providence,  born  of  a  race  which  is  the  dominant  one  in 
the  world  to-day,  he  only  needed  the  preparation  and 


FINIS  311 

the  opportunity  to  come  into  his  own,  as-  one  of  the 
great  characters  of  any  age  or  clime.  Both  had  been 
given  him,  not  as  he  would  have  had  it,  but  as  a  higher 
Power  had  willed  it.  That  he  was  a  truly  great  char- 
acter, called  of  God  to  lead  his  people  through  the 
smoke  and  carnage  of  war,  into  the  sunlight  of  per- 
petual union,  dawned  on  others  long  before  it  did  on  the 
man  himself.  Duty,  not  ambition,  was  the  mainspring 
of  his  character.  And  while  following  the  path  of  duty, 
wherever  it  might  lead,  he  one  day  found  that  the  path 
of  duty  ran  side  by  side  with  that  of  glory,  until  at  last 
they  were  the  same. 

This  evening,  as  from  his  vantage  ground  on  the  hill- 
top he  wondered  over  it  all,  he  realized  that  he  no  longer 
belonged  to  himself.  That  from  the  day  he  received 
from  the  kindly  hand  of  the  martyred  Lincoln  that 
great  commission  to  save  a  land  from  disunion,  and 
while  saving  a  land,  to  save  a  brave  people  from  them- 
selves, he  belonged  no  longer  to  himself,  but  to  the 
nation.  Then,  unconscious  of  the  act  himself,  he 
brought  his  hands  together  three  times,  as  the  great 
Southern  leader  had  done  on  that  memorable  day  at 
Appomattox,  when  the  gray  uniform  as  such  was  laid 
away  forever.  This  little  touch  of  human  weakness 
seemed  to  bring  him  out  of  the  revery  in  which  he  had 
been  for  the  last  hour,  and  he  now  strode  rapidly  in  the 
direction  of  the  farm-house.  Once  arrived  there,  he  was 
greeted  by  a  strapping  young  farmer — the  master  of 
the  home — who  had  returned  to  the  house  while  he  had 
been  resting  on  Girdle  Tree  Hill.  He  held  in  one  hand 
that  of  his  little  son  of  seven,  while  in  the  other  he 


312  THE  MAN  OF  DESTINY 

grasped  an  oil  lamp.  He  gave  a  start  of  awesome 
recognition  as  his  visitor's  countenance  stood  revealed 
beneath  the  light  of  the  lamp.  The  latter  now  spoke. 

"Would  it  be  demanding  too  much  of  you,  sir,  if  I 
asked  permission  to  visit  the  attic  room  overhead?  I 
used  to  sleep  there  as  a  boy,"  he  said  simply,  by  way  of 
explanation. 

The  young  farmer  quickly  granted  the  desired  per- 
mission, and  still  leading  his  little  son  by  the  hand,  he 
escorted  him  up  the  steep  stairway  that  led  to  the  little 
room  above. 

The  visitor  cast  one  look  of  absorbed  interest  at  the 
humble  quarters,  which  he  had  known  as  a  boy.  Then, 
turning  to  the  little  lad  whose  eyes  had  followed  his 
every  movement,  he  stroked  his  hair  and  put  in  his 
chubby  hand  a  shining  piece  of  gold.  "That  is  for 
luck,  my  little  man.  Some  day,  when  you  get  older,  you 
will  sleep  here,  where  I  used  to  sleep  years  ago,  when 
your  father  was  no  larger  than  you.  And  when  that 
day  comes,  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  the  'other  boy' 
who  used  to  sleep  here  then." 

And  now,  with  a  word  of  thanks  to  the  young  farmer 
and  a  courteous  word  of  farewell  to  the  mother,  who  had 
now  appeared  on  the  scene,  he  passed  out  into  the 
darkness. 

"Papa,  who  was  that  man,  who  gave  me  this  penny?" 
said  the  little  lad,  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  late 
visitor. 

"That,  my  child,  was  the  next  President  of  the 
United  States." 

THE    END 


A     000129634     2 


